Bloody Sunrise
by Dispatching Kratt
Summary: In 2001, when Chris started college, his older brother Martin met his first expedition. During the Second Congo War. Can he as an only survivor of his team after the attack of armed rebels accomplish his mission and return back to Falcon City? References to Far Cry 2, Zimbabwean writer Wilbur Smith and Martin/Laura Shipping.
1. Chapter 1

You could see Martin working together with several other scientists - two women and another one man just working on a marine animal research on a yacht.

Martin was dressed in a white T-shirt, dark blue jeans and black boots. He was also wearing a sweatshirt of his favorite color - blue this time light.

The blond was in charge of finding and making sure that the fish had not been extinct in the local waters. The rest of his academic team was one oceanographer, biologist, and the other man on the ship was a seasoned African-American naval captain who had previously served in the navy, making it a great candidate for University of Falcon City for scientific research of this type.

The young man was startled to hear the voice of one of his academic team girls.

"I got the fish!" the young biologist called enthusiastically, as if she were a fisherman.

Martin was in a bad mood after his last breakup, but his research associates, who in this case were from the same year as he did not show it.

He sighed and came to a dark-haired woman with brown-haired white-haired hair.

Martin came to her to be the only zoologist here to confirm that it was the kind they were looking for.

The girl was overly enthusiastic, and Martin was annoyed by the scream. He didn't want any "smart goat" to ruin his work.

There were clouds in the sky. It was overcast, so it was more cold and dark here at sea. In addition, a cold wind was blowing.

The fish had silver scales but there was a line of black scales from her nose to the back fin. It was quite large, but it was the kind they were looking for.

Martin sighed again. He was tired of the stereotypical work of a scientist who repeated himself here in Falcon City. Even more so after her breakup with a girl who has beaten him on his head that he is a romantic-artistic soul.

"It's the fish we're looking for here. It's blackfin tuna aka _Thunnus Atlanticus_. It was told by the line on her head and the typical shape of the tuna." said Martin, trying to keep the flapping fish on the plastic table on the left side of the ship.

However, he cursed briefly during that, because the tuna was large and quite powerful. In addition, Martin wanted to release the fish back to freedom. The tuna now reminded him of his self stuck in depression.

"Please hand me that damn chip before the fish runs!" yelled and the oceanographer, a girl with a round head and red hair found it and handed him the chip.

Suddenly, some force swept through his body with anger: he managed to hold the wet fish in place, though it slapped his tail in pain.

"So now you get this friend.." murmured to himself as he easily managed to attach the tracking chip to the tuna gills using violence.

The fish was even crazier than before, and Martin raised it with both hands, then threw the frightened animal back into the saltwater. There was a splash.

His gang rejoiced, but he didn't. Now there was a two-hour return trip to Falcon City.

Martin decided to go to the captain's cabin and pretend he didn't exist. Maybe get a little drunk.

"Damn.." Martin muttered to himself as he watched the sea waves.

* * *

He was back in Falcon City that evening, and Martin was packing his stuff in his backpack in his "office" sitting on a chair at his desk. Behind him you could see a white wall with posted pictures of nature. He had a pen on his desk and some papers.

You could tell he was both angry and depressed.

Though these things were only in his head, he thought he would buy some alcohol on his way home and be drunk in his room unless his younger brother made a noise with his visits.

He loved her, he really loved her.

To endure, he pulled one can of alcohol from his work backpack. He was about to open it, but he didn't open it when he heard the voice of one of his old acquaintances: the professor who taught him here at the university.

"Kratt, what happened to you?"

Martin immediately hid the can of alcohol, so his former class teacher wouldn't see him like that. Immediately the door to his "office" opened.

"Nothing associate professor, really nothing." Martin blurted out when a 60-year-old man with wrinkles and gray hair came into his official nest, formally dressed, almost as a clerk.

"You still haven't learned. You know how many times I told you that you can call me 'teacher'?"

Shortly thereafter, Martin answered as a former student.

"I'm sorry, teacher."

Associate professor looked at the young man, took a deep breath, and said:

"I have come to inform you that your first expedition awaits you in order to protect endangered species and their subsequent return to nature."

If Martin had the beer open and would have swollen before, he would probably spit it out because he only confusedly said; "Expedition?!"

"Yes, exactly, Martin. And I'll lead the expedition."

Martin got up from his chair and continued his questions in part with enthusiasm.

"Where will we go? And which animal species is involved?"

Associate professor reacted with humor because he gave his former student a colorful tourist flyer "Discover Africa!".

"To Africa? Aren't they fighting there now?" Martin smirked and he turned his look from a tourist flyer, which he held in right hand back to his former teacher.

"Yes, Africa is at war, but you're not going to fight with me."

Martin just swallowed, and began to shake a little, because he remembered the terrorist attack on the World Trade Center on September 11 last month.

He wasn't live at that, but the news was full of that. Associate professor continued telling him information.

"We will fly to the Democratic Republic of Congo. Plane will land in Mbuji-Maji and we travel to Bukavu between Rwandi and Burundi."

Martin swallowed again, but the associate professor continued.

"Our task will be to ensure that animals do not become victims of this human conflict. Particularly endangered species."

Martin swallowed for the third time and he asked again; "And will there be a guide or.. or just someone who knows?"

"The guide will be a man named Mwikiza. More about him in Mbuji-Maji."

Martin swallowed again for a few more and asked, "When will I leave with you?"

Associate professor took the leaflet back, looked into Martin's eyes and said, "The day after tomorrow."

For Martin it was more than enough information, so he decided to leave his "office".

Associate professor followed him as he left the room and walked his own way through the university corridors. Behind the windows, which had the exterior of the faculty instead of concrete walls, were in most cases a night city and darkness.

* * *

Martin returned home in a somewhat shocked mood. You could say that scared and excited at the same time.

Luckily, his younger brother Chris was in the dormitory, so he could enjoy the peace and rest from his sibling.

In his room, he left turned on only the lamp at his desk, which was behind his bed.

Lying in his underwear and white shirt lying on a bed covered with a duvet with blue geometric patterns held a pen and something that looked like a diary.

He felt a little better and even though he didn't say anything, you could see him smiling again after a long time.

He started writing. The work was called _Song of Love and War_. He smiled again and thought for a moment. After a few seconds he began to work on the first verses.

_I was desperate,_

_part of my heart was gone._

_But now,_

_I'm fighting in war!_

Martin thought again. He wondered if he would write it as a sonnet or as one big poem. He finally decided that the first verse would be a sonnet. The beginning of the poetic work, complemented by his own drawings, which he creates from this moment until the end of his first expedition in Africa, specifically in Congo.

He started typing this start sonnet on.

_I was torn apart,_

_then they called me._

_I fight all the time,_

_until there is no feeling in me._

_I'm in a bloody jungle,_

_bullets fly every step._

_I'm lost in this tangle._

_I hear screams,_

_animals also kill._

_I'm lost in this bloody streams._

Martin read his sonnet and smiled. If his first expedition is somewhere where is fighting, why not include it in this sonnet in advance?

Martin hasn't finished yet. On the next blank page (it was a lined diary) he began drawing a picture of a lion jumping on a shooting shocked soldier in the savannah.

He took a deep breath. He felt a little better and was more happy to know that during his first expedition he would work on both poetry and illustration.

He got up from the bed and put the pen with his diary in his working backpack, which was placed on a chair at the desk in his room.

He lay back in bed and covered himself with the covers. He reached out to turn off the lamp and after a while began to fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Martin planned to pack up things for his trip to Africa today and find out more specific information about his departure at the university.

He decided to pack things this morning. His working outdoor backpack was laid on a chair at the workbench while putting his clothes in an outdoor black shoulder bag that was laid on the bed.

The mother of both brothers, Linda was going to work, and walked past Martin's room when she noticed that the older of her sons was packing things up.

"Martin, why are you packing?" she stopped in front of the open door of his room with this question while she saw Martin packing.

Martin was dressed in the same clothes he had yesterday, and his body, like his room, was illuminated by the light coming into the room. You could see his bachelor's degree in zoology hanging on the wall on the left side of his room.

"Big news mom. My first expedition awaits me and it leaves tomorrow." Martin said as he turned to his mother with a smile on his face.

"F-first expedition?" Linda said, a little shocked.

Martin noticed his mother's shock, so he came to her, hugged her and said; "Don't worry, Mom. You did it when I went to college dotmitory. Chris, like me, regularly returns."

"I don't know how long it will be. I'm not ready for that you will move soon."

Martin didn't tell his mother where his first expedition would take place. She would only be more afraid.

"Mom, I promise you I'll be back. On a cat's conscience. This is the beginning of my career." he said, returning to his room and taking his work backpack before closing the door and locking it behind him. Linda did not let her older son out of sight.

* * *

He didn't even have that much working day at university in his way. Because of tomorrow's flight to Mbuji-Maji.

As always, Martin came to his usual workplace - for this day the ornithology classroom, where he and his colleagues sometimes remotely dealt with the protection of exotic birds or their research.

So far the work has not started since it came soon. So he decided to kill himself by pulling out one of the textbooks found on the shelf and reading it while leaning against the wall.

"Kratt, lucky you're here."

Martin was startled, and he nearly dropped the textbook he was reading when his old acquaintance appeared on the scene.

He immediately put the textbook back in its place and made it ready. This time, however, he was not only visited by a professor.

"Let me introduce my ex-student Martin." said the professor as he opened the door and Martin found himself in the view of another six people. And professor continued; "He will be a member of our expedition team in Congo."

Martin, on the other hand, was a bit disappointed to find that there was no woman on the team. But he didn't show it.

The team was one half-breed, African-American, and the rest were white. When Martin saw their glances he didn't see whether he was friendly or hostile to him.

"Let me introduce you to our team members." said the professor and pointed to the first of the whites "This is John. A former soldier and he will make the team do armed protection in a war environment."

Martin shook hands with a rather strong former member of the US armed forces. Compared to the man, he was a tint.

Professor continued "Here Jack will be important too. He is a car mechanic, but he was in the army as well, and he can do it with explosives. He and John will be in charge of protection."

This was followed by the remaining members of the academic team.

Scott, geographer. Matt, from high school qualified economist and experienced nature protector. Rhys, ecologist and Elliot, guardian of the local park.

Martin was glad when the lengthy introduction was over. Finally, it will be the information that is waiting.

"Tomorrow, be all at the airport at 7:15. The university arranged a medium-sized private plane to fund the expedition."

"And what should I take with me?" Martin asked and everyone looked at him.

Instead of the professor's answer, Elliot replied.

"Outdoor stuff."

Martin preferred to be silent on this, but he was glad that he had begun to prepare properly in the morning. Just take with you something against the sun and insects.

The professor was glad everyone was ready, but only the last important information for the morning remained.

"I'll be all waiting outside the airport. I'll be at the entrance."

* * *

Today Martin after about two hours at the university in his room refreshed the packaging of his things by continuing his work.

_The journey begins well,_

_and I've already met my team._

_There is a cartographer, armourer,_

_when there will be bombshell._

_My adventure has just begun,_

_I don't know what I should say._

_Soon I will temporarily stay in Africa,_

_in a country where bullets fly from guns._

_I am at home and I am going,_

_I am both excited and concerned at the same time._

_In a country, where is a war and regime,_

_where poets write about the king._

This was supposed to be an alternative beginning of the poetic work instead of a sonnet. This time, Martin completed it with a drawing of a young man (who was supposed to be him) standing on a mountain and watching the jungle from above.


	3. Chapter 3

It was supposed to fly today. Today Martin was supposed to start his first expedition.

It was early in the morning and it was still dark at the airport. Moreover, it was still somewhat empty.

It was cloudy and the sky was dark blue. You could see the moon's silver glow in the sky.

However, a few lights were on at the airport and the first arrivals were airport staff.

Martin was still a little tired after getting up early, but he was ready for the journey.

He stood in the parking lot, this time dressed in a white formal shirt, dark blue jeans and black boots. He carried an outdoor, almost military backpack of blue color on his back, carrying a black shoulder bag in his right hand.

It was quite hard, so Martin tried to keep it all. The expedition was supposed to last two months, so he had to take a lot of things with him.

He was running out of power, so he put the bag on the floor beside him for a moment.

The sunrise started already and it was 6 o'clock. He suspected he had come too soon.

Martin decided to kill time by continuing his work.

_The journey begins and I am waiting for my companions,_

_at sunrise alone._

_Darkness is dark blue like ocean water,_

_I hear my low moans._

_The city is still alive,_

_and I know I'm leaving him._

_I don't know if I'm going to be on soldiers' aim,_

_by the way I'm going to survive._

He managed to write this before he was startled by the associate professor.

"I'm glad you're waiting here." said the associate professor and Martin immediately hid his diary and pen back into one of the pockets of his backpack.

"I came around too early." Martin said and he sighed.

"OK. Even the rest of the team knows that it will eventually have to fly earlier."

"Fly earlier?"

"So that the expedition could begin as soon as possible. You came just in time."

Martin didn't know how to react. He intended to pretend he didn't exist again, but that was the rest of the team.

"So the journey can start.." said the professor and began to encourage his team "Follow me. We are here soon, so the check-in will not be a problem for too long. I'll show you the plane and get to know the pilot."

Martin took his bag off the ground and followed the rest of the team. After clearance and understandable customs control, the group reached a small hangar. This time Scott started to speak.

"I'm the pilot who'll be driving this plane. I have a qualification."

An aircaft of black and white colors from the Cisna Citation aircraft family appeared in the hangar before the group's eyes.

Martin didn't know if he was going to be excited or not, but he would like to have privacy for a while.

"It's time to start putting things on the plane." Elliot announced, and Scott was the first to be on the plane.

John noticed Martin's mood, so he punched him hard on the shoulder, saying, "Don't worry. It'll be fun."

That punch hurt Martin, and when John stopped seeing him, he cursed "Damn .."

After the ten-minute transfer of things to the plane, it was time for the expedition members to go and settle down.

Martin sat on the seat at the round window, fastened with a belt. While his backpack was in a certain part of the plane with his bag, he took his diary, pen and pencil with him. He wanted to continue his work during the journey.

"Get ready, now we're going up." Scott announced loudly, and Martin was startled when the plane shook. When he was startled, he dropped his pen with diary and tried to lift it off the ground.

"Oh no." Martin murmured to himself as the black seat sat picking up his pen and diary from the ground.

The plane was shaking again, and Martin was trying to get his things off the ground.

Finally, he managed to pick up his diary and pen when the plane suddenly rose at a sharp angle.

At that moment, the force in flight literally pushed him toward the seat. He literally strainted his stationery on his shirt. He didn't want them to fall again.

Then it somehow calmed down. Looking around, Martin realized that when he was trying to get his stationery back, he'd forgotten he wasn't alone here.

Everyone was looking at him now (Scott couldn't because he was a pilot) and he looked like an idiot.

"I am sorry." he said, settling back in his seat with a diary and a pen in his hands.

Martin thought of looking out the window. He turned and saw from the window that the plane was already leaving Falcon City. He could see the last skyscrapers and the harbor from the window. This was followed by a look at several smaller villages in the district, roads and then the American wilderness. Falcon City was on the other side of the United States in the time zone plus 9 hours.

Martin then returned his gaze to his diary and continued writing his poem.

He barely wanted to write a pen of a verse describing an air journey across the Atlantic Ocean, but he did give up on it due to lack of privacy.

He put his head on the wall by the window and fell asleep shortly afterwards.

* * *

"Kratt, Kratt!" Martin heard the professor's voice and felt someone shaking his shoulder. He opened his eyes and looked around. The professor was shaking him.

"What, what, what's going on?" said Martin with a quick glance at the professor, still sleepy.

"It has landed in Mbuji-Maji."

Martin unfastened his belt, got up and tried to wake up. He kept his pen and diary in his hands.

"How long have I slept?"

"9 hours."

Professor led out half sleeping Martin. Since it departed at 6:30 am and the time difference was 9 hours and 15 minutes, at the time of arrival it was already in the Congolese city in the afternoon. The time was 15:45.

Martin stood on the ground again, half-sleepy, but Elliot thrust his backpack and bag into his hands. That Martin definitely woke up.

He began to look curiously at a not so modern airport, this time with a backpack on his back and a bag in his right hand.

He saw the medium-sized white building of the airport.

There was a clearly visible sign in French on the building_ **AEROPORT DE** **MBUJIMAYI**_. At the roof of the building was the flag of the Democratic Republic of Congo and another flag was on the ground at the entrance to the building. Several cars were parked at the building, and the building featured a large posted photo of the recently assassinated Congolese President Laurente-Désiré Kabila, who died this year in the assassination of 16 June, less than 2 months before the terrorist attack in New York on the September 11.

Laurent's son Joseph became the current president of this war-torn country. Mbuji-Maji was in an area that was under the administration of Kabila, both the late president and his son, the current president.

The airport environment was something between the city and the jungle. The city was quite poor and it was recognizable in certain buildings. The landing pad was not built on grass but on damp brown ground from mud.

The sky was overcast, about gray, and the heat was not too much, but because it was standing in a tropical belt, the cold there was not so cold.

There were several blacks at the airport. Some of them were armed soldiers overseeing security at the airport, and others were airport staff and people, men and women who wanted to use the services there.

Looking around, Martin heard his stomach growl. He knew he was hungry.

"Do we have anything to eat?" he asked, while the rest of the team glanced at him.

"We'll have a meal when we get to know the guide." Jack replied.

Martin decided to drink water from the plastic bottle he was carrying in his backpack to temporarily fill the void in his stomach.

He kept his diary and pen in his pocket. He intended to pull out the diary and pen from time to time and continue writing his verses.

Martin saw the professor speak French to a black man who was dressed in khaki military clothing and held AK-47 in Martin's surprise. Loaded. Then he remembered a man named Mwikiza to be a guide.

Then the professor came and the gunman followed him.

"This is Mwikiza. Given that there is a war raging, so the guide had to be someone who knows not only here, but can handle weapons."said the professor and John added; "All right, we can go now."

It was supposed to go north and there was a need for an armed escort - it was the territory of the RCD-Goma, the Rally for Congolese Democracy, but it became famous for looting cities and violence against civilians instead of establishing democracy in the country.

Fortunately, the guide was also able to drive a car, which was useful because the university rented several cars in Congo for an expedition.

In the end, a convoy of about three cars was accompanied by a guide. The road went from the city to the jungle.

It was clear to Martin that the stop for something to eat might not be so he dug out a chocolate-flavored protein bar from his backpack to ward off hunger. He kept the plastic bag in one pocket in his backpack. As a zoologist and fresh nature protecto, he wanted to recycle. He was in the car,which the geographer Scott was driving, and when he looked at the local wilderness, there was a desire to pull out his diary again and continue writing poetry.

Here and there a jeep with civilians or soldiers who were also heading north to fight. Their uniforms were dark green and their berets were green — it meant they were ground troops.

The guide always showed that he was one of them not to suddenly fire them, after which the African soldiers and mercenaries replied waving. They waved those sitting on the back of the jeeps and the most popular weapon was just the Russian AK-47.

After an hour's drive, it stopped at the border of two opposing sides.

"Veuillez arrêter." the professor told the French guide to stop. The other two cars stopped with him.

The professor got out of the car and decided to report to his team; "Here are the boundaries of the territory that is under the administration of Kabila, namely Joseph Kabila, and there is territory that is controlled by rebels."

Martin, along with the rest of the team, got out of the car and took his stuff with him.

He looked at the environment where it had been parked. The scattered road was in the middle of the jungle, and now there were Congolese animals, including monkeys.

"What do you mean, Professor?" Rhys asked, not looking very excited twice.

"If we want to get there, we'll have to walk there. Those rebels would not consider us an expedition, especially when our guide is a soldier on Kabila's side. They would fire us immediately."

Already soldier John and car mechanic Jack with his assault rifles in his hands joined the discussion.

"If they try to attack, I shoot them to the bloody cuckoo."

Jack, however, warned not to show his readiness too much.

"Be careful where we are, otherwise we will be shot even by those soldiers who know that the guide belongs to them."

Martin watched the professor again with a guide.

"Come on. Take things. We should go to him. He knows the way to the north." the professor announced hastily, and Martin watched as the black man pulled out the machete he was still carrying on his belt.

The professor followed the jungle guide, followed by the rest of the team. With his happiness, Martin was the last in line, but now the loneliness suited him.

Again, he planned to pull out a diary, a pen, and continue writing his poetry, but the professor had announced it; "Martin, you're going to be filming the camera now."

Martin sighed inconspicuously and had to take the camera the professor had given him.

"3,2,1, now! Now shoot!"

The professor counted down and Martin did what he wanted. But because of the camera he could no longer carry his bag in his hand, and now Elliot was carrying it.

The point of view changed when shooting Martin: Now it was actually that where he went, the record went with him, and now he was filming the jungle and a few animals that were there.

Then he pointed the camera at the professor and the rest of the team took care of the atmosphere as they walked.

"Do you think that poachers there are working with illegal diamond miners in the local black economy?"

Rhys said to the camera, and the professor's reply came; "Certainly, because diamonds are now paid everywhere."

"But then, two illegal things at once, I mean, if we can do it, we kill two birds with one shot." John replied, and Martin shot with camera as he aimed the gun in his hands into the jungle.

"Would you rather be careful now and continue the journey? I don't feel very safe here." said Martin, but he almost let go of the camera to the ground when John punched him in the shoulder.

"No surprise that you are scared when you have not even fought in the Middle East against Saddam Hussein!" John also added that.

But then something came from the bushes. The whole team was alert.

The guide made it clear that everyone was quiet now, and John and Jack began aiming with their rifles.

Martin was still filming, although he was damn too nervous. Like the others, he had heard the twigs of popping and had a very unpleasant feeling that it would not be any animal.

Then there was a moment at which he dropped his still-on camera still on the ground and didn't know what to do.

Suddenly there were gunshots from assault rifles, and Scott fell dead to the ground with a bleeding chest in front of Martin's eyes. For two seconds, Martin saw that Scott's chest was shattered.

John and Jack opened fire as if they were fighting in the Middle East again.

At that moment, another black man, dressed like the soldiers and guides, came running through his neck. The shocked Martin managed to take his machete, but more gunmen had come here and were now firing at him.

As Martin ran, he saw Rhys' head blow off, and another of them cut Elliot's neck.

It was clear to Martin that he would leave his bag with clean clothes and underwear there, but it didn't matter now that he was caring for his life.

He literally jumped between the roots, ignoring the venomous snakes below. The bullets followed him, and Martin turned for a second. Shortly afterwards, he felt a sharp pain in his right hand, and when he looked at the hand in the run, he saw him running down his hand and dripping blood to the ground. They shot him.

He didn't know how to react. Whether he was to curse or moan in pain, because it hurt quite a lot, and he knew the bullet was stuck in his own flesh.

Martin, however, after a few minutes of running got a view of the African wilderness from above. He smiled for a second when he saw the village in the distance, because it meant help.

But he stumbled over and fainted shortly after a severe blow to his head, specifically his forehead.


	4. Chapter 4

He started to open his eyes. He blinked for a several times because his vision was blurred. He felt tired and hungry at the same time.

The bed and pillow he lay on were not so comfortable, but apparently it was the pinnacle of local luxury.

He blinked because the light coming out of the window beside the bed blinded him. The walls of the small house were painted white, and Martin saw the plaster falling from them.

At that moment he could see again in detail, but he could feel the pain of his right hand and his headache.

He remembered what had happened and the first thing that came through his mind was:

"Fuck.." he cursed softly as he touched his head and forehead with his painful right hand.

At his forehead he felt a substance that was both soft and hard. He knew it was a bandage, and a few seconds later he realized that his head was bandaged like that in the forehead area.

He began to examine his right hand while still lying in bed. The light from the window beside the bed was shining on his right hand, making it easier for Martin.

His hand was also bandaged. There was a dark brown spot on the bandage, a little still red, and as Martin stared down, he noticed a dried stream of blood on his hand that was pointing from the bleeding point all the way down to his elbow, where blood dripped to the ground.

He sat down slowly on the bed. The light from the window behind him shone on him, so you could see that some of the dirt, including his own dried blood and the blood of his companions who had been brutally killed in the front of him, got into his blond hair and detracted from their beauty.

Martin got up and searched his pockets first. He remembered his diary, pen and pencil, and now he hoped no one had stolen his written poetry work.

He almost blew up with rage when he realized his diary and stationery were not in his pocket. But then he turned to the right and noticed a wooden, somewhat older table beside the bed where his diary lay with a pencil and a pen.

He got up and came to the table. When he looked properly, he noticed that his backpack was next to the table on the scattered ground and, oddly enough, he found a machete that he had taken over after the guide's death.

Now he was in no mood for writing, and he knelt first and started poking around in his backpack.

He was not only hungry, thirsty, and he had the need to go to the bathroom as well, but he also bothered the dirt in his hair. Because it gave the impression of itching and so it was understandable for other hygienic reasons.

He didn't know how long he was unconscious, but he knew he hadn't eaten for more than 12 hours.

Finally, he found his two-liter bottle and drunk the drinking water in his face.

Thus, he had not only a wet face but also partially wet hair. He was colder now than before, but he didn't care at the moment. Then he drank water, but his wasting his supplies from home was not enough.

He undressed half naked. He tossed his formal white shirt on the bed, he took the bandage off his forehead and tossed it in the basket that was the only one in this little house, and poured cold water from the bottle onto his head.

Martin had a lot to do not to curse again.

He was already wet with the bandage on his right hand, so he went to the basket shortly afterwards. Part of his trousers were wet, and he stood in his shoes in a brown liquid, mixture of water and dust on the floor.

He raked his wet hair a little to get rid of the dirt. A little of the dirt mixed with the dried blood of his dead colleagues was now running down his bare chest along with the water, and Martin needed to wipe himself into something.

Finally, he dug out several unused handkerchiefs from his backpack. He had no choice but to wipe into the handkerchiefs. Here in his backpack he had only basic hygiene supplies, the rest, including clean clothes, was in the bag he had lost when he escaped.

Wet handkerchiefs that contained both dirt from the ground and dried blood also ended up in the trash after you wiped his own chest with them.

Martin buttoned back his formal white, almost office shirt, which he had just dropped on the bed a while ago.

A few drops of water were still dripping from his wet yellow hair, but it was enough to wave with head to stop it.

Martin came to the steel door. He stared at the door for a moment, then at his backpack. He wondered if he should take his stuff with him.

He finally decided to leave his backpack here, but for instinct he had to take a machete with him. At the same time, it seemed strange that those who had saved him didn't took his machete as a weapon.

He opened the door and a small little bit modern village appeared before his eyes.

He began walking around. The locals were black, so it was understandable that they didn't know how to react when they saw a white man with a machete at his belt walking around. He also carried his two-liter bottle with the rest of the water. He didn't know where he would wash his hands here after the need, and this was the last option.

As he walked by, he was looking for something like toilets. He needed a toilet.

In the end he found something like that, but there was no peace. Surprisingly, the radio played there, and the local presenter strangely spoke English with a Congolese accent.

But Martin did it in these "public toilets", but it didn't matter, and yet it didn't stop him from unbuttoning his pants and doing the need with his manhood.

Satisfied, he relieved himself after doing the need, shaking lightly with his manhood to get rid of the last drops of liquid, and hid his manhood in boxers and buttoned up his pants.

He then spilled water on his hands to "wash" them and then wiped his wet hands on his trousers.

He left here with a bottle in which he was only about thirty milliliters in his right hand.

Again, light was shining on him, and he was beginning to feel warmth. As he looked around the village more standing, he noticed that there was a jungle nearby, and savannah on the other side.

Now he wanted to solve hunger, but realized that if he asked for help here, it would be the poor local people, unless they beat up his head.

He decided to go back to the house where he woke up. He decided to dig something out of his backpack for a snack.

Martin barely followed the door after he entered and swallowed shortly afterwards.

There was a white man, dressed as an adventurer, and a brown-haired woman at his side - a white woman too.

The man had his diary in his hand and read Martin's sonnet out loud.

Martin didn't know how to react. He wanted to attack them from the beginning, but the man put his diary back on the table, looked at him, and said:

"It seems our unknown has awakened."

"Who are you?!" Martin did not understand.

"Well, just those who saved you." the woman added.

The man noticed Martin's confusion, so he decided to explain it to him more.

"We are nature protectors from Europe. We went here to meet my colleagues and check out illegal hunting of endangered species here in Congo. This village is, in a way, our base."

This time Martin decided to join in.

"My name is Martin Kratt and I'm a zoologist. I was here with my university colleagues on my first nature protection expedition, but we were attacked. I alone survived the shooting."

Now there was a scene where he watched them and they watched him.

"When we're here for the same purpose, why don't you join us." said the man and Martin reacted immediately.

"Join you?" he shrugged.

But the man came to him, patted his shoulder and almost behaved like a cowboy even though he was from Europe.

"You're my new friend Martin, let me introduce myself." The man began to wave his right hand as if to show him entering the African wilderness "I am Kurt Jaeger and I am a nature protector from Germany."

Martin immediately emerged from his curl.

"Thanks, thanks, that's enough for me, you are really nice people. You're my new friends as I see." he added to it.

Martin noticed one more thing about Kurt carrying a gun. On his back was a sniper gun with a jungle motif, so the weapon had a dark green camouflage.

"Why do you have those weapons? When I set out on the expedition, I did not imagine that the protection of endangered animals had anything to do with the military." he asked.

"The blond is probably a beginner." the woman added, and Martin noticed that she had a French accent.

"The war is raging. Not only civil but also war with neighboring countries. Secondly, the poachers and they are armed more than the local nature protectors. We have to shoot them."

Martin swallowed.

Kurt opened the door and the woman followed him. Martin finally decided to follow them. When they were about to leave, he took his backpack and followed them to their surprise. Martin took his stationery diary with him in his pocket. He intended that when the situation somehow resolved, he would return to his work of art.

"You want to join in the end?" the Frenchwoman added when she saw him go after them.

"Yes, I will join you and be happy to meet local nature protectors." was his reply.

When they left the house, Martin followed these two European nature protectors. Kurt and his French colleague led him to a gray Jeep, who was parked on the road at the beginning of the village.

Meanwhile, Martin pulled another protein bar out of his backpack to kill hunger. Kurt noticed this as he started digging in the trunk of the car.

"Are you hungry?"

Martin did not know anything, but shortly afterwards he confessed.

"I don't know how long I've been unconscious, but I know I haven't eaten for more than 12 hours. I'm hungry."

Kurt stopped scrambling in his suitcase and pulled out a baguette of chicken from his backpack. He put it in his hand, saying, "Take this to eat." and continued digging in the trunk of the car.

Martin bit into the baguette and it seemed to him that after a long time he had some good food again, although he was probably only one day here.

Finally Kurt pulled out a gun. It was a sniper rifle and its stock was made of wood. At first glance, it looked like metal was just an eyepiece and a trigger.

When Martin saw it while he was eating, he swallowed. It looked almost like a deer rifle. Or it looked more like an antelope rifle.

Kurt was charging it, and he was still saying it; "This might be enough to get you started. This is the M1903. Not very modern at the moment, but it might be appropriate for you to get started."

Martin who had finished eating the baguette was now throwing a slightly shocked look at the old assault pistol. He couldn't imagine "hunting" poachers with this.

Since he had finished the baguette, he had no choice but to take the weapon. He never fired from a gun. Since that there was the armed escort. The sun was also shining in his eyes, so he had to put on his sunglasses shortly before.

"Did you buy it or do the weapons just roll over the ground there?" Martin added, when he held the old assault rifle in his hands. At the first view he thought that this is a sniper rifle, not a battle rifle.

"Both sides have their arms dealers, and they go to all sides, including those who are shooting here, but are politically neutral at war. They sell to us both nature protectors and those we go after.

Otherwise, it is true that due to frequent gunfights you can take your weapon from the ground for free."

"And what do they pay for?"

"We pay them with normal money, but the poachers who work with illegal diamond miners after which we're going for them too are paying them often with diamonds for weapons."

Martin was now trying to aim his weapon. Now he was looking through the ocular and heading into the jungle, and though he was more of an artistic soul, he felt he wanted to finish something his expedition had started, even if it meant shooting at people.

"Is it charged? I think I understand how this thing is being used."

"It's loaded, just wait. You need more ammo." Kurt said, while the Frenchwoman watched them.

Martin took off his backpack and eventually came up with the fact that he would carry it attached to his backpack, but that was not the end of his armor.

"You will need the UZI if you get into close combat from any of the warring parties or poachers and their miners' 'comrades'."

So before Martin could recover, the German gave him one charged UZI.

"It belongs to the pocket." Kurt added.

Martin was about to leave, but Kurt stopped him again, this time with words; "Friend, you forgot the main thing."

He gave him a heavy weapon this time, but it was still light in its class. It was a light machine gun M249 SAW.

"Trust me, you'll find it useful." Kurt added before Martin could say anything.

Martin swore quietly to himself, and decided to carry a heavy weapon on his shoulder like a heavy. It was placed beside the rucksack and her barrel was aimed at the ground.

"I don't want to upset you, but I want to do my job myself."

Martin added, but Kurt gave him yet another rounds of ammunition for all three weapons and a map.

"All right, friend, you just need to get ready. If you want to do it yourself, your thing, but remember that me and Jacqueline are close to you."

"Close?" Martin repeated and he looked confused.

"Take this new Nokia. I had to arrange it for you, because I thought you would be a good friend when you wake up."

So Martin, now carrying equipment and a map, now even carried a cell phone that was the same model as his.

"Thank you very much for your help, I just have to go." he said, heading for the savannah in a somewhat confused mood.

During his walk, he stopped by the well to refill the drinking water in his bottle and continued his journey to the savannah.

Finally he found himself on a hill that divided this village with a savannah.

There was a lake, several trees, withered grass, and Martin could see grazing zebras from afar.

Instinct told him to pull out his first weapon he got from his buddy. It was clear to him that he would be fired not only by poachers and illegal diamond miners, but also by soldiers from both the war's sides of this state and their international neighbors. He knew his only allies would be the two and local nature protectors.

So, with the old assault pistol in his hands, he looked around the savannah as a young man from his poetry.

But he had no idea what had happened at the place where he had survived the shooting.

A group of modern armed poachers searched it there and found, in addition to the corpses, an abandoned bag with clean clothes and underwear, and even a rotating camera.

"Comrade Zere, I found something!" came the voice of a young armed poacher, a black-skinned man who had just stumbled on the camera still rolling on the ground.

"Show me Comrade Minkah."

The young man also handed the camera to the armed man, but his skin could not be seen. He wore black gloves and a scarf along with his helmet and sunglasses over his head, covering his face and race.

The man turned off the filming and looked at the record. Armed men followed him, too.

There was an expedition on the record at first, but not just any. It was an expedition of nature protectors. Poacher moved the record to the part where it was filmed as the group was shot by rebels from RCD-Goma. The moment the camera dropped to the ground, a young blond man dressed in a formal white shirt, dark blue trousers, and black boots was seen running away from bullets.

"So these people wanted to ruin our business and this one survived.." said the commander "Tunapaswa kumpata na kumuua!"

He told his men in Swahili and it meant that Martin was a dead man from now on.


	5. Chapter 5

There was a tense atmosphere in the African savannah. Group of local nature protectors did not seem to be in a state of excitement due to actual situation here in Congo.

It was afternoon, and one woman belonging to the local nature protectors was looking around.

The woman was black-skinned with black hair and almost dressed as a soldier.

She was wearing khaki military clothing, a helmet, and a black assault rifle in her hand.

But they all started aiming automatically when they heard the crackling of the dried grass along with the footsteps.

They headed for tall grass and saw a male figure witj white skin with blond hair and somewhat formally dressed.

The man was armed.

The armed group attacked him, thinking he was a poacher. But before they could pull the trigger, the man lowered; "Don't shoot, don't shoot! I'm a nature protector like you!"

He spoke English, and what the man said the group understood, so they stopped aiming at him.

"Do you have any proof that you are a nature protector?" came the reply of another man on the team, a black man as well, while looking uncertainly at our young zoologist.

"Wait, I have my documents in my backpack." Martin said, putting his guns and backpack on the ground while a member of the local nature protection team was still aiming at him with an assault rifle.

Martin had to kneel down again, his heavier weapon were on the ground beside his backpack, while the UZI remained in his pocket.

He was a little nervous about how they were aiming at him, but even so his fear didn't stop him from digging up his papers.

One of the local nature protectors began reading one of his papers aloud in English.

"BBA. Martin Kratt, a qualified zoologist."

The man stopped reading out loud and stopped aiming at Martin. Martin took advantage of this and put his papers back in his backpack and took his belongings with him, including his weapons.

He pulled out only the M1903 and carried it in his hands while his backpack was on his back and the M249 SAW hung at the back of his shoulder beside the backpack.

"I was in a group of American nature protection expedition here in Congo - after all, I'm from expedition was fired and I was the only survivor. I'm going for poachers too." he summed up what had happened to him to make it clear that he was on their side.

" It is not very safe here lately. The worst is looting villages and raping women." one of the members added.

But by that time Martin was walking north in the local territory.

He studied the local landscape and noticed the flaming village in the distance. He immediately remembered what the other local nature protector had just said before a moment, and since it was not far from here, he ran quickly there.

He was sweating a little. He carried a heavy weight and originally did not plan at all to stay here by some nearby village. But he had to help those poor people.

For a few seconds he was wondering if he should call his new friends, but considering how armed he had decided he could handle it himself.

He paused at a burning wooden house. Smoke was almost everywhere and most buildings burned.

"This was not planned.." he murmured to himself, but he'd heard the woman's screams and children crying.

During that he took several other buildings and saw the gunmen - he didn't know what faction they were in this war - how they wanted to steal supplies of medicine, food and water from the local people.

One of those soldiers, if any, was about to rape one of the captured women while the men were either tied, unconscious or dead, and the children of the villagers cried in terror.

Martin's reaction was immediate.

"Il y a un gars ici!" one of those gunmen in French called when he noticed Martin standing in front of them as he was about to fire at them from an assault rifle.

Martin made one major mistake and that he ran right there in front of their eyes instead of trying to sniper them.

First shot hit chest of the first soldier, killing him instantly, but it was already shot down after him so strong that he had to hide behind the wall of one of the burning houses.

"You're kidding me." he said angrily to himself as he leaned against the wall and found that charging this old assault rifle was a more difficult procedure than he had expected. In addition, it seemed that with the M1903 this must be done after every shot of it and it was about charging.

The moment he managed to do that, the bullet flew at his ear. He felt such a sharp pain associated with sharpness, speed and heat on his ear, and after a while he felt damp on his right ear. The bullet partially flew through his ear, causing a bleeding scratch before landing on the ground.

"Well, maybe.." he said to himself as he noticed and was about to shoot "Fuck."

He fired again and this time the bullet hit another attacker in the head. Blood dropped in the air.

Another approached him with a shotgun, so he had to start running around to keep the shot from hitting him.

He managed to hide in the bushes, so the attacker unknowingly ran into the trap.

This time he pulled out his machete and, to his surprise, quickly pierced the guy with the words; "You won't hurt those innocent people, you bastard!"

But it was almost a grenade that exploded in front of Martin.

The last guy (yes, there were only four) shot from machine gun, which was attached to the jeep that was parked in the middle of the village and tried to kill the young zoologist.

He had to run damn fast, but then he thought of shooting him from a distance.

Finally he tried to crazy to shoot him while running, dodging bullets.

Eventually there was only one shot after which the shooting in this city ended.

The corpse of the last assailant fell to the ground with his head shot through, and the locals sighed in terror.

Martin hid the weapon back to his rucksack and came up with his hands up to show those people he didn't have to worry about it.

"Don't be scared about me. I won't hurt you." he said, swallowing in horror as he realized that the guys were dead and that he had killed them.

"Do you speak English!? Help me and the locals!"

Martin turned around when they heard a male voice with a Congolese accent, and apparently he was the only person here who was not afraid to express the joy of saving out loud.

Martin turned and saw a forty-year-old black man with black beard and glasses dressed almost as an official at the local bar building.

Martin did not wait and immediately ran to the man to help him. He pulled out a bloody machete and cut up the ropes that made the man's legs and hands tied.

The man did not immediately wait, and before meeting, both men rushed to untie the citizens of this small village.

The children returned to their parents, only the last problem left, and that was the fire the rapists left behind.

"Let me introduce myself." said the black "official" shortly after saving citizens, while looking into Martin's face "My name is Zahur Nwachukwu. I am the mayor of the local community and one of the local officers." He said and he shaked his hand with Martin's hand.

"My name is Martin Kratt. I'm a zoologist on the wild nature protection expedition here." was Martin's reply during shaking hands.

"It will be dark soon. And it is even less safe at night than during the day. What if you were to spend the night here in the village?" said Zahur, while Martin watched the residents quench the fire behind him.

Zahur led Martin into an intact little house in the village office and opened the door.

The house was wooden this time, and Martin noticed a native African mask over the bed and bookshelves to his surprise, even in English.

"So you would spend the night here. This house serves as a dormitory for important guests and it can also be used as an office here." Zahur said and he pointed to a wooden table with a chair by the wall on the right side of a large room.

"You can have dinner with us. It's Moambe for dinner tonight, national food. Will you have?"

"Yes." Martin said to Zahur as he turned to him.

Tonight the village was held socially. It was held outside by a blazing fire, and Martin, now sitting on a piece of wood, was enjoying a special recipe of fish, which was a local national dish.

He kept his backpack and guns in the house, now he was enjoying the peace and feeling tired.

Zahur stood up with a glass of alcoholic beverage called White Elephant in his hand.

"This stranger saved our village, our home just as it seemed that the violence of the war that is now raging here will destroy it. Be grateful to him."

People applauded and everyone continued to eat.

"What do you plan after you leave?" Zahur asked as he watched the "village savior" finish his dinner.

"I'm on a business trip here. I work as a zoologist and this is my first expedition. I will get up tomorrow and continue my journey." said Martin as he got up and was about to return to the house to sleep.

"Do not forget that you are a welcome guest here." Zahur said to Martin as he left.

Martin returned to the house. There was only one lamp on the desk.

He brushed his teeth and crawled into bed in his underwear. Tomorrow he intended to wash.

Martin was too tired to think of rhymes now, so he thought he would read before he went to sleep.

Finally he pulled out a book _The Leopard Hunts in __Darkness_, an older copy of a book written by Wilbur Smith and flipped through curiosity.

His eyes were now reading one particular excerpt from the book.

_"So you didn't take the gap, like the rest of us did, Jock."_

_Craig said, greetings Jock Daniels._

_"Taking the gap" was the decoratorry experession for immigrating._ _Out of 250, 000 white Rhodesians, almost 150, 000 had taken the gap since the beginning of hostilities, and most of those had left since the war had been lost and the black government of Robert Mugabe had taken control._

This short snippet for Martin was enough for today. He put the book back in the shelf and fell asleep lying on the mattress only in his underwear covered with an old blanket.

* * *

_Snippet from the book: The Leopard Hunts in Darkness by Wilbur Smith _


	6. Chapter 6

Very early in the morning, Martin was awakened by the singing of exotic birds mixed with the sounds of monkeys.

He got up and wiped his face with warm hands. He took a deep breath. Light shone on him from the window beside the bed and warmed him. So far he had no intention of putting on his sunglasses today, as he had until yesterday afternoon.

He put on his jeans, formal white shirt, and want your socks used before. Then he put on his shoes, took his belongings and went out. But before, after he dressed, he brushed his teeth here at the bowl of water that was on the table that he had not noticed until this morning.

He intended to have breakfast first, then wash, brush his teeth and continue his journey to the north of Congo.

He passed by when Zahur noticed him, just heading into his office in one of the little houses here.

"Martin, are you leaving now?" Zahur asked Martin while he was heading into his office.

"I have breakfast, wash and leave." Martin replied and he was still about to leave this village.

"You can have breakfast with me before you leave." said Zahur, and Martin stopped at that moment.

Soon he had breakfast from a wooden bowl using a wooden spoon of corn porridge at an office of the officer.

"Thanks. I didn't even know where I could get anything for breakfast." he answered as the mayor watched him eat from his chair at his desk.

"OK." Zahur replied.

He finished his meal and put the empty bowl with a spoon on the table, got up and left.

He was washing himself after a long time. The locals advised him to take soap and wash in the nearest river.

He was naked and the water was about as cold as it was warm.

At the shore behind him you could see his backpack and guns on the ground, and his clothes beside the guns.

The ground was dark brown in color and was partially wet. But the grass that grew from the ground and what things were laid on it made sure that his clothes were not wet.

He felt the bottom wet, he could feel his feet touching twigs, dirt, stones, and the fish sometimes running under his feet.

Behind him you could see exotic trees and the direction of the stream behind him and the village he had saved yesterday.

The water washed his naked body. From chest to manhood and from manhood to legs. Satisfied, he splashed naked in lukewarm water when he noticed someone watching him.

She was a female figure. The unknown young woman was dressed in khaki pants and a black shirt and black boots. She was as blond as he was. On her back was an outdoor backpack, also khaki, and was carrying a camera in her hands.

Looking at her, Martin's mouth fell and he forgot the fact that he was naked and that the stranger could see his manhood.

Then he turned, and as he turned back while scrubbing with soap, he noticed the unknown woman was gone.

Confused, but also enchanted by her beauty, he continued to wash. At the same time, he wondered if he just dreamed of her.

It was about ten, fifteen minutes, because there was a wooden pedestrian bridge over the river nearby, which was near the village.

"Sorry, do you speak English?" Martin turned to the shore when he heard a woman's voice.

It was the woman he had seen on the other side of shore before the moment.

In his subsequent reaction, Martin was so startled that he could only say "For God's sake", slipped in the water, dropped the soap (the soap landed on the grass at the left shoe of the unknown woman) and dropped his naked body to the bottom. He was all underwater for a few seconds, but as soon as he recovered he got up from the water and tried to wipe his eyes, which were now pinching as a result of the water. Lukewarm water was running down his face and his naked body, while his hair was wet and water was dripping.

He still didn't understand what was going on.

"What the heck!?" it fell from him while standing naked in the water in front of her, wiping his eyes "I saw you on the other side of the shore and you just come here and I lose my privacy to wash in peace!?"

The unknown woman noticed that the unknown young man was mad at her now, but decided to keep talking.

"I saw you on the other side of the shore, too. You know, my guide here was recently killed by gunmen, so I search here on my own. When I noticed from the other side of your equipment and that you were a white man like me, I thought to make contact with you."

He climbed out of the water and was shivering over the cold he suddenly felt naked, while he stood on the ground.

Martin started himself wiped again in his handkerchiefs (he took them with him to throw them in the trash) and dressing again. During that, he continued to talk to the unknown woman.

"And would you follow me even if I was a poacher, a soldier of one of the local factions, a mercenary or a bounty hunter? Because when someone is armed, you don't know if he can eventually go against you."

Martin said as he buttoned his dark blue jeans and turned his back on the unknown woman.

"From what you say, I don't think you are any of that."

Martin was now buttoning his formal white shirt. He turned to the unknown woman again and continued the conversation.

"Yes, you are right, I am not anything I mentioned, I just pointed out that you would be in danger if I were." he said while buttoning his formal white shirt.

He was putting on his shoes while the unknown was still looking at him.

"So what are you? I'm here for work."

Martin looked into her face as he tied the laces on his left boot.

"That's fun, I'm here too for work." he added "I'm a zoologist and a future nature protector." he added then again with a smile in his face.

"Journalist and reporter." the woman replied

Taking things with him, he pulled out the cell that Kurt had given him, turned it on, and announced it as a voice message, now watching the path of the growing trees in the middle of a combination between a partial little desert and a savannah; "Kurt, this wasn't planned. I killed 4 people yesterday to save the village with innocent people. I'm a scientist, I don't want to be a killer."

"Who was that?" she asked as he watched Martin as he ends the call and looks at the phone for a while with the keyboard in his right hand.

"Just one friend I met here. Also a nature protector." said Martin, putting his phone in his pocket.

Martin was about to leave, but it stopped him from the disappointment of the young woman he had just met.

"So I just talked to you in a hurry, and you're leaving?"

Martin turned, looked at her, and remembered how enchanted he was by her while he was washing in the river. Finally he came back to her and said; "But I'm a fool... what if I invited you somewhere outside this war to get to know each other like some bar. I don't feel the touch of a woman's hand for a long time."

She looked at him and noticed that she was beginning to hold her hand. He did not hold strongly, but to make her feel comfortable

"There's a bar not far from here.." she added and she looked at his face "Drink I pay."

"Shouldn't I pay?!" he turned immediately.

"And you have the local currency?" she turned at him.

"Noo.." he said in a rather long tone, remembering that everything was paid by the university, and that he was not therefore exchanging money to change.

"Follow me. This is a good bar this way." she said and Martin followed her by walking dusty road he ran yesterday unnoticed due to shootout in village.

"What's your name? I didn't even manage to meet you." he asked as he followed her past a dirt road that separated the savannas from the woodland where the bar was.

"Laura. Laura Wilkinson." she said and she then turned at him during walking "And you?"

"Martin, surname Kratt." he replied.

"I remember one Martin who was in high school with me."

"Really? And what about him?"

"He moved to San Diego for college and I haven't seen him since." she replied

"You'll be pleased to be from the United States just like you, dear Laura."

The young journalist decided to ignore the word "dear" and continued her discussion during walking.

"So it's nice to know that I'm not the only one of my nationality here."

The road became less dusty and the savannah turned into a forest in which there were several rocks during a ten-minute journey.

"So here we are." Laura said when she and Martin stopped in front of a medium-sized brick building, the roof of which was covered with hay from outside.

A piece of wood with an English inscription was nailed to the roof.

**_Bar at the Elephant _**

Of course, Martin was disgusted as a beginning nature protector when he noticed two crossed tusks of an adult elephant attached to the wood-straw roof of the bar behind the wooden sign.

"Come inside." she said and he followed her into the bar. He closed the wooden door behind him and, to his surprise, the bar was smaller from inside than he had expected. The floor was clay, and the walls of the bar were covered in the room again under a layer of dried and hard clay. Thus the walls were brown to beige while the floor was dark brown. The tables with chairs were wooden and the bar was located at the back of the bar. There were four chairs.

There were a couple of locals in the bar, but those two whites who came here, they ignored them.

Martin decided to sit down at the bar. She sat in a chair on the left side beside him.

"What would you like to order?" the black-skinned bartender asked as he prepared to mix alcoholic beverages.

"I'll have a bottle of beer." Martin said and Laura then added "Me African Rum."

"6850 Congolse francs please." said the bartender and Laura while sitting in a chair beside Martin pulled out her wallet and paid the bartender.

The bartender drew a small glass into which he poured a yellow-colored alcoholic drink and put it on the other side of the bar to his customer.

Martin got a dark glass bottle of African brand beer he didn't even look at. He could have poured it into a beer glass, but he reminded the bartender that all he needed was an open bottle.

He took a little swallow of alcoholic beer and decided to continue the conversation. Meanwhile, he held a dark brown open glass bottle of beer in his right hand.

"What brought you to war Africa for work? Another newspaper article?" he said and he drank from the bottle again.

"You hit it. Otherwise, what else would I do when I am a journalist?"

"I do not know. Maybe you'd work for an exotic magazine."

Laura drank a small glass on her first loot, but the bartender poured the rum into her glass again because she had paid for the whole bottle.

"And you, when you are a fresh nature protector, are probably here on your own expedition too, right?"

Martin swallowed his lager again and continued speaking while looking into her face.

"I was here on my first expedition, and I was the only one who had survived the armed attack."

"I am the same.The guide who accompanied me and my colleague was shot by gunmen. My colleague cameraman was with me."

"And what happened to him?"

"He was kidnapped. Since then I have been searching on my own, trying to write the article and perhaps save my colleague."

"He was your boyfriend?"

"No, just a friend."

At that moment a mad idea ran through Martin's head.

He put a glass bottle of half-drunk beer on a wooden bar, then thoughtlessly grabbed her hand and said; "I have an idea, Laura."

She looked at him and it was clear to her from that moment that they had met enough to call themselves by name.

"What Martin?"

"What if we helped each other? I will try to help you save your friend and article and you could help me document the expedition?"

"Work only?"

"Yes."

"Doesn't it bother you that when I first saw you, I saw your penis?"

Martin swallowed at this sentence and felt a little uncomfortable. It was true that when he saw her for the first time today from a distance, he was washing naked himself in the river.

"No, it shouldn't. I just hope my manhood has not disappointed you."

"No, I don't care. If the relationship between you and me seems like a work-only, not a sexual thing, then seeing you naked doesn't bother me at all." she said, and unobtrusively in love with her Martin saw the chance.

They both got up from their chairs and left the non-drunk alcohol behind. They went out.

"If we help each other like this, I think we could start now." Laura said, and saw Martin pulling the M1903 out of the weapon he carried, attached to his rucksack in the direction that the rifle's barrel was pointing to the ground while the weapon was at an acute angle.

"What are you doing?" She asked, when she saw him doing that.

"You said you want to start now. So I have to take care of both you and me."

Laura pulled out her camera and started showing Martin the rifle in his hands to show photos of the place she wanted to head.

In the photos were armed men black, but surprisingly also white skin. They stood by a jeep beside a large building in the middle of an African jungle, probably a warehouse. The photos continued, and besides being able to take pictures of the building from outside, there were also endangered species in the cages.

"Here I got unobtrusively with my colleague. I originally wanted to document the course of the war, but I had to focus on those poachers. I bet they're the ones who killed the guide and kidnapped my colleague." she said, while Martin viewed her photos.

"Where is it?" Martin asked.

"Heading south in the jungle."

Martin started walking, but the journalist from the morning didn't let him go.

"You don't have to walk. Let's go by car!" she stopped him and led him to a car behind the bar building.

The car was not the same type as the jeep, so it had a roof. It was an old white painted passenger car from the 80s-90s.

Martin did not expect this and the first thing that came through his head was where he would put things.

"Better than walking there for half of a day." she added.

"That car. Where did you get it? I just don't want to make sure you don't want to steal the car with me."

"This is the rented car I used to drive with my guide and colleague. I know where the warehouse is."

Laura sat in the car on the driver's seat on the left, and Martin sat in the right seat beside the driver's seat with a backpack on his lap and a rifle with a light machine gun at the car's door.

"Wouldn't it be better to walk there after all, when we drank alcohol?" Martin said a little concerned.

"Don't worry, I had little."

"I hope that." he added with concern again. She turned on the engine, and after a while the white scratched passenger car drove up the dusty road quickly until the dust floated in the air. The journey took about 15 minutes. Laura stopped with the car in the jungle on one of several branches of the same road.

Martin opened the door and got out of the car. He carried his rucksack on his back and a light machine gun with a barrel pointing to the ground beside the rucksack. He decided to keep M1903 in his hands. She left the backpack in the car and took only the bag over her black shoulder while carrying her camera in her right hand.

"Here it is." Laura said, after she left the car too and she continued "If I am not mistaken, they should continue their activities until now."

He was studying this part of the jungle now, but she grabbed his hand.

"I know where there is a safe way to the warehouse here in the jungle. I'll lead you." She said and he stopped holding her hand, but followed her.

She led him through the dark jungle to the west. The monkeys bouncing on the trees made loud noises mixed with the sounds of their feet impacting on tree branches and bird singing.

Finally she forced him to kneel at the part of the jungle from which the warehouse was visible and the observer was inconspicuous. It meant they were watching them downhill.

"Do you have binoculars?" He asked then, while he kneeling and holding M1903 in his hands watched armed poachers down the warehouse as they handle business correspondence.

"I got one."

"Please lend them to me." he asked, and she pulled them out of her shoulder bag and gave them to him.

Martin now put the rifle on the ground, on the grass beside him, and looked through the binoculars at the warehouse to see how much of a possible heavy combat would be expected.

A white-skinned man was chatting there with a black man, apparently a merchant.

Armed men were around, and to the surprise most men were white. This meant that foreign poachers, probably even from Europe or Russia, are driving the illegal international trade here nicely.

He brought her binoculars back to her and began aiming his rifle. Like the second weapon he carried on his shoulder on his back beside his backpack, the machete hung nicely on the right side of his belt.

"Laura, hide. It won't be safe here." he said while he was nervous and frightened to prepare himself for a fight that wasn't the same as a fight in that village.

"And could I at least take a picture of the shootout? I think I will write an article about a young scientist fighting poachers on his own in the middle of the war in Africa. It will be an article about you."

"Deal, but now hide in some safe place up here and shoot it with the camera out of here." he said, preparing to shoot the first non-African poacher.

Martin noticed that Laura had gone to the left, where the hill had been raised and hid with the camera in her hands in the bushes so she couldn't be seen.

He could feel sweat running down his forehead because of his frivolity. He was the first to aim at one of the guards who protected the area around the storehouse with live endangered animals of the local fauna. He pointed at his chest ... and squeezed the trigger nervously and frightened.

There was a shot, and there were red drops of blood in the air at the bullet that flew into the man's body through the chest.

Panic immediately began and Martin was already nervous that he would panic. Is this part of nature protection work? This?

"Is this guy an agent or something?? Find him and kill him! This guy won't drive our customers away!"

He could hear one of the white poachers roaring from a distance, and before Martin could recover, the shooting of assault rifles was already shining through the forest.

They hadn't seen him yet, so he shot another armed poacher in the head again as a sniper.

But then they started running around and before he could recover he have heard how one of the men shouted "I see him!"

This time the bullets began to fly around his head, so he had to get up and run around in the jungle to avoid being killed.

He fired again, but this time he missed. He've already realized that the M1903 is not very good for open combat.

"Damn it!" he cursed for himself.

This time one of the gunmen flew straight into his path, and almost shot Martin, but it ended by a machete running through his chest.

Martin hid the machete again, and this time he had the idea of grabbing the assault rifle as a temporary fourth weapon and hiding behind a medium-sized piece of stone.

They threw a grenade at him. He knew it because there was an explosion near him, and dirt and grass flew through the air in a small circle.

"Shit. Did I do college to risk losing my life here?" he murmured to himself as bullets were flying over his head, hitting the stone behind which he was hidden.

He began shooting with the machine gun, which took one of the poached poachers. The caged animals were completely forgotten in the fight.

One of them managed to hide, but when Martin noticed him and tried to avoid the attacker's missiles, he was in such a mental state of battle that he immediately pointed at him and fired his chest until the man with the bloody chest fell to the ground.

At that moment, he ran out of ammo, so he had to take a magazine from the gun of an African poacher, perhaps even a mercenary who had just blown his head off with the same weapon.

Again, there was an explosion, and the dirt flew in the air.

The young zoologist wished this was over. It was clear to him that when he will mert Kurt again, he will ask him for some psychological help to help him cope with it or get used to the fact that nature protectors normally do this.

Then he noticed a jeep with a machine gun and a cage with a jackal trapped in front of the entrance to the warehouse, because poachers couldn't load it on the jeep to fight.

This time he had more opportunities to be close to the warehouse, and he thought he would take an unlocked grenade from one of the poached poachers. He unlocked it and threw it to the jeep. There was a car explosion and he noticed that the black man they were trading with was somehow gone.

The fight is over. The AK-47 assault rifle was thrown by him to the ground by one of the corpses of the poached poachers.

From a distance, the young journalist saw that her new colleague was standing at the warehouse and waving her to come down.

"Laura, it's clean! You can follow me down!" Martin called out loud as he waved at her.

His face was dirty, sweaty, and maybe a little red. He was shaking a little from the shock, but he was glad the damn fight was over.

"You've done a great job!" To his surprise, Laura hugged him with these words, even though he wore his formal white shirt of sweat, dirt and blood "Would you mind giving me an interview on our way back to the US?"

The hug stopped, and Martin responded immediately.

"Thanks thanks. I just did what nature protectors do with poachers normally as I learned here in practice. And don't worry, I'll give you the interview for your article."

He patted his sweaty and dirty shirt to get rid of the dirt from the ground.

Meanwhile, he noticed that Laura, with her camera in her hands, had begun examining the abandoned warehouse.

He followed her. He intended to free the trapped animals, but now he was out of breath as the warehouse was modernly equipped inside, in a country affected by both the civil war and the weak economy.

So while Laura was taking photos from the inside, Martin pulled out Nokia, which he got from Kurt, but at that moment the phone started ringing. Martin immediately picked it up.

_"It's me Kurt. I got your voice message where you almost whined like a kid. Don't worry, Martin, you'll get used to it. I too was frightened in my first fight with poachers."_

"I managed to clean the warehouse where the endangered animals are kept. I destroyed them some business or anything, and I need you to come here. Should I free the animals in the meantime?"

_"Don't release them yet. You are a beginner so far, you could be startled and the frightened animal could hurt you. Leave it to me, Jacqueline and local nature protectors."_

"So should I send the coordinates?"

_"Yes. We'll be here in fifteen minutes."_

The call stopped for a moment because Martin needed to learn from Laura. Then he told Kurt in a call. His answer was:

_"Thanks. It's good that your new friend also helps us."_

then he ended the call and put the phone in his pocket. It was time for him to see the warehouse himself.

There were several elephant tusks lying on the firearms table. The roots of the tusks were bloody, and during that time, Martin imagined how the elephant must suffer.

He smirked.

He kept walking, and besides the caged animals, there was something he needed now - clean clothes!

Laura noticed.

"What are you doing?"

"I need clean clothes. What I'm wearing is already dirty. Do you mind if I changed clothes there in the workshop?"

"Do you want me to see you naked again like this morning when I met you?"

"I'll be behind the curtain.. though, you will see my shadow."

"Do not worry. I won't notice you. I need to take pictures of it here and probably take one or two things from here to show them to my boss in the newsroom."

While she was taking pictures of her and picking up her two "souvenirs," Martin grabbed the clothes he found there, hid behind the curtain, removed his backpack and guns and dropped them on the floor and stripped naked.

"How do you plan to spend the rest of the day?" she asked him as he was hiding behind the curtain, and from his shadow it was clear that he was putting on clean boxers.

"Somehow calm. I enjoyed the shooting so much today."

He buttoned up his new trousers, the color of which was unrecognizable because only the shadow was visible behind the curtain.

"Besides, the bar- I know where you could spend the night with me."

"And where?"

"When I was here with my colleague, we stayed in one house by the lake where the waterfall flows. Nothing sexual."

"This is nice, but I have to explore the local area for my work."

From the shadows behind the curtain it was seen that he was putting on a new shirt.

"So I know where. There was a guesthouse in the bar where you were with me. Would you take one room and two beds?"

"Yes."

He pulled back the curtain, and Martin decided to show off all his beauty in his new outfit before taking his stuff with him.

Black boots remained, but dark blue jeans replaced khaki military jeans, a white formal shirt, a dark blue short-sleeved shirt, and a military vest, also with sand colour khaki.

Laura's mouth fell.

"Do you mind if you had this in the photos in an interview? You look tough."

Martin put on his backpack and carried the weapons on his back as before, except for the UZI, which this time rocked nicely at the sheath on his belt as well as the machete in the sheath on the left.

"Thanks." he said and he thought of putting on sunglasses.

"I've done everything. We can get out of here." she said and Martin started looking forward for writing poetry for the rest of the day.


	7. Chapter 7

Martin was just getting up. He was lit by the light from the window next to her not very comfortable bed where he had slept yesterday. He was sitting on his bed in his underwear now, waking up.

It was very early in the morning and Laura was still asleep. She lay on the bed next to him, covered with a blanket she had with him while he was sleeping in a local old blanket.

They slept in that guesthouse here at the bar whose existence he had learned yesterday from her.

While she was working on her article yesterday after exploring the poachers' warehouse, he walked around the bar with a pen and a diary in his hands and continued writing poetry.

Meanwhile, he was too nervous to read his poems out loud in front of her. But at the same time he felt he was attracted to her. Both romantically and sexually.

He came to the bed where she lay. He went barefoot, but he didn't mind. He looked at her and began stroking her while she was still asleep.

She is beautiful, he thought. He touched her light skin. He could feel the excitement, and if he could, he would make love.

She began to wake up and he walked to the bed where he was lying and began to dress so that it did not seem to touch her.

"How did you sleep?" she asked woke as she saw him dress.

"Good." he said while putting on his "new" dark blue short sleeve shirt.

Laura started to dress too, but while Martin looked after "all" what he went through a bit exhausted, she was after she got to know him quite a good mood.

When they changed (Martin rather dressed because he slept only in his new boxers), they were turned back.

"When I was working on my article on a laptop yesterday, I saw you out of the window walking outside with a diary and a pen, writing there. What did you write down there?"

"You would laugh at me." he said while he was about to brush his teeth.

"No, I won't laugh at you Martin."

Martin was about to squeeze a piece of tube paste on his brush and brush his teeth above the bowl of water in the room, so he answered while holding his brush in his right hand and tube in his left while turning back to Laura.

"I'm an artist. You saw me writing poetry yesterday, but it's not very useful. I can write verses, I can draw, I can play musical instruments, but I can't even repair a car."

She looked at him as she put the laptop back in her backpack; "Why should I laugh? After all, poets made up a large part of history, which at that time had an impact on the public, moreover it is romantic."

Martin couldn't answer now. Now he brushed his teeth, but he heard her. He spat the paste into a bowl of water and washed his mouth. The young journalist was just watching him in silence and she decided to brush her teeth as well.

He packed his hygiene items, took his backpack and guns on his back, saying; "We can go."

They walked down the wooden stairs. The guesthouse was actually a small two-story building built of wood and brick. The building was about 40 meters behind the building where the Bar at the Elephant stood.

"I have to go to the northeast of the country." he said and looked around the surrounding nature.

"Where?" she asked.

"Into Bukavu. It is a city near the border between Rwanda and Burundi." he said and he was going to drive the car now this time.

"Do you have a map?" Laura stopped him again, like yesterday, but Martin shortly thereafter realized, that he has a map only for this area.

"No.. again.. damn." he reacted like yesterday.

They both got into the car. However, Martin had to put his backpack and the rest of his weapons in the back seats of the car. This time he wanted to drive a car.

He didn't even realize he had no breakfast, he remembered when he was about to start the car and Laura offered him a cereal bar.

"We didn't even have breakfast. Would you like me?"

"I'll have one too. I admit that I'm a little hungry too." he said, and before he started the car, they both had two cereal bars for breakfast.

He started the car and now the question arose where they were going.

"We're going north, aren't we?" she asked again and Martin replied "Yes".

The ride began quite calmly.

But after about half an hour of driving Martin and Laura had been stopped something.

"Martin, stop." she pulled his sleeve in the middle of the ride "I see something in the jungle."

They were just passing through the jungle hills, the six-foot hills. For Martin it was the first time he had ever seen the jungle of this area from above in all its beauty.

"What do you see?" he asked, when he stopped the car.

"Some men.." Laura said "..and they are armed."

"And they see us?"

"No."

Martin eventually parked the car by parking behind the huge leaves of the local exotic vegetation by the road so no one could steal the car.

They got out of the car and he took his belongings. It wasn't long before he was walking on the grass with the M1903 in his hands.

"It reminds me of yesterday, but I want to know what's going on there." Laura said and so they both went there eventually.

Martin swallowed when he saw a mine hidden in the bushes. And from what it looked like it was an illegal mine.

They seemed to be working with the poachers of yesterday, and besides the gunmen and the people who ran it, there were also African workers, black-skinned miners.

This time a black man drove it. He was just talking to a white man, a man dressed as a hunter with a lit cigarette in his mouth.

The name of the company that mined here was in French, and so it was possible that this business was proud to help these gunmen in the Congo's black economy, thanks to its capital.

The Democratic Republic of Congo was and is rich in minerals, but it was most likely that diamonds were mined here. Not if it was in an area where there was legal mining.

One of the workers, all dirty of clay, smiled unobtrusively in one pocket. He was poor and this was a big chance to make a living.

"Shit... there are civilians." dropped out of Martin when he saw the workers. He wasn't going to hurt them.

"The mining is not legal. That must somehow stop." Laura added.

"I do not like the idea of having to repeat the same scenario as yesterday." Martin replied.

"So what are we going to do?"

"I'll choose another tactic."

Martin put back his M1903 on his backpack and got up and Laura could go crazy as he walked up to them.

"Are you crazy!? They'll shoot you immediately!" she reacted like this.

"They don't. Believe me." he turned to say her this, then he turned back and he continued walking.

There were two snipers up there, and they immediately aimed him. One of them told the commander to the transmitter that there was an intruder.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" Martin repeated "You see, I have no weapon in my hands!"

The black man who was talking to the white man Martin saw, apparently speaking French, came to him, and since he could speak some English, he immediately started.

"But you're armed as I see.." he said in a little garbled English as he studied the equipment on his back "What do you want here? This is a private property! Get out of here before you become jacka' food!"

By "jacka'' as he said in garbled English he meant jackals. Again somewhat nervous Martin this time had to switch to theater mode, namely the role of poacher.

"I'm a poacher. Corporal, young officer." he lied and the black man still eyed on him.

"So if you're a poacher, what happened to your group? Poachers usually like to stay in groups." The black man started to test him.

Martin could feel sweat flowing from his forehead. One mistake and they shoots him.

"I am a young businessman and a traveler, so I hunt alone. If you cooperate with poachers you know that there is nothing better than a dearly sold animals hunted with love."

"Looks like you're really a poacher. I think you'll like it when you meet our arms dealer." The black man said, leading him to the mine.

"I also have a few qualified foreign workas in the field of geotechnics and they are managing machines and workas here." the black man continued "Sir, I don't know what your name is, but what would you say about exploring the mine and working with your company?"

Before Martin could say anything, a man of the same skin color as he was talking to the black man started talking.

"I think changing legal form of my business from a limited liability company to a cooperative is not a bad idea." the man added.

"I agree with the mine tour." Martin said and they both looked at him.

"I'll take him down that one." said the white man and he said to the black man "Keep an eye on the workers here."

Martin swallowed. An unknown man put his left hand on his shoulder and said, "Take the helmet with me. Inside it's not twice as safe and it's hot there."

"Can I take my weapons with me?"

"Of course." the man said and he M4 assault rifle, which had hung on his back until then, with the barrel aimed up.

He took the red plastic helmet with the light along with the man and put it on his head.

The way down was not twice pleasant and the workers were still working down there.

"This mine is one kilometer deep and diamonds are mined here. Beauty Mother Nature." the man added, while Martin kinda interested watched working African miners.

I'm here to stop this, he thought.

So when no one was looking, Martin attacked the man. Not wanting to kill him, he slammed his head hard against the wall, then he fell unconscious.

He searched his belongings and the man carried four diamonds that Martin had to take them for some unknown reason.

But he didn't notice that one of the workers had seen the scene, and now panic began.

"Wito msaada!" one of the frightened workers called in Swahili, and everyone looked at Martin. Everyone saw the weapons he carried with him, so they made their way up.

Martin had no way of getting up because he was almost trampled by them. He got up from the ground and noticed the black dirt on his hands, but it had already begun to fly bullets from the guard of local illegal mining.

He stepped up a little, but he wasn't careful, so one of the bullets shot him in the leg. He swore and held his bleeding leg for a while, but soon he had to take at least UZI to defend himself.

He stood up and limped and decided to come up, but one of the gunmen attacked him and in close combat, and the man eventually ended up with a skull shot through.

He managed to take a step, but the fire was still strong, so he crouched behind one of the machines.

He remembered that he still had a magazine, so the light machine gun loaded and limping plunged into the fight to enter the daylight.

The shooting stopped for a while, and it was a chance for our wounded hero to move up the challenging path.

But the fact that he was now confused about the wound was confused by one of the attackers who lurked on him, so when the dark diamond mine was silent, so one of those gunmen flew at him, but with a pickaxe.

Martin was startled and just dodged. The attacker's pickaxe hit the wall and a few black stones fell to the ground. If he hit him, he would end up dead with a pickaxe in his head.

The gunman had just let go of the possibility that he would just shoot him off, and so Martin had to avoid a blow to the head with a pickaxe again in less than two seconds

In the end, he had found a suitable way to get on the way up, at least in part, but the gunman had coughed up and opened fire on him.

The tunnel was a kilometer deep, as Martin recalled, and in his limp run back with a light machine gun on his back he had a lot to do to get a little up.

He hid behind a wagon with diamonds loaded and noticed that there was a barrel of fuel for their mining machines not far from him.

Eventually he threw him down there, and of course the fire on him again. He counted how many meters he had left within a kilometer, and after a few seconds there was an explosion behind him.

This time he tried to run, though he suffered because of his leg. He saw the light again, and he had ten meters left to be back on earth when he was suddenly thrown away by an explosion.

He hit the ground. His eyes were closed for a moment and he tried to get up a little stunned.

He hadn't noticed the black man from the beginning, who was now aiming at him with the handgun, but only noticed when he heard his startled wail and fall to the ground. He turned around.

He saw Laura with one of the dirty shovels in her hands, she stood over the man who was now unconscious. When she saw him with a drop of surprise, she said, "Well. Would you prefer he shot you?"

"L-Laura." Fell out of him, when he saw a sniper on one of the wooden watchtowers that was now aiming at her.

"What's happening?" she don't understood, why he is stuttering, but Martin at that jumped at her and pulled her away from the environment where the sniper could shoot at them.

They both lay beside the yellow-crawler excavator and were basically in a sexual position. He was lying on top of her, and she looked at him like he came out of that mine like a weirdo. Such a look did not last long, because when they fell here, she heard a shot from a sniper rifle.

"It's not quite safe yet.." Martin added and he stand up. Laura stand up after him.

"And what do you want to do with the other snipers?"

"I want to let them live, I'm not a killer. Before we leave, why don't we go through their buildings and get out of here?"

Laura nodded and she hugged again her "personal protector" and "hero" of her article at the same time. At that moment she noticed that Martin was limping.

"They shot you?" she turned at him, while they walked and Martin was getting ready to open first iron doors.

"the foot, but I can do it."

"You need the help of a doctor. I have a first aid kit. I'll treat you."

You don't have to imagine what Martin in the love started thinking afterwards.

He opened the steel door and, to his surprise, there was a local dealer of weapons and goods. The businessman was a white woman.

"Glory, customers. So what do you want?" she asked and Martin, who put his hand at the moment on the iron table, where she was said "Something more useful than this."

He put M1903 on the table.

"I see you're well equipped, what would you like to buy?"

"Sniper rifle."

The businesswoman gave him a modern Dragunov sniper rifle.

"Price? 4 diamonds."

A little tired he gave her what he had collected in that mine. Since one diamond was worth two, he could keep the other two. Surprised, he didn't even tell her how he found the diamonds in the mine.

He sat on a stump while taking a break to treat him as they continued their journey. They were together in a quiet part of the jungle, and Martin could go crazy.

"You are amazing." he said as he watched her treating his wounded leg and they both smiled at each other. Birds signed and monkeys at local trees "singed" at the rising young couple in love too.

But Martin didn't knew what was happening at the village, where he spend his second night at the moment. It burned again and Zahur was threatened by the leader of these poachers.

"Did you saw this man!?" leader of the poachers asked, while he aimed at his chin.


	8. Chapter 8

Our young zoologist was quite happy after how it a few days ago ended. Now by this time, they had been on the road by now for five days, and it had been a week since they met.

One of the stops eventually took place at the place Laura told him about.

It was a place in the jungle, where there was a house by the lake into which the waterfall poured.

So far, the journey was without any difficulty and Martin decided to use this one-day stop to learn at least basic car repairs.

It was about nine o'clock in the morning, and Laura, who was working on her article again, noticed him lying under the car in which they had come and digging in it. Only his legs were visible. Whenever he moved his legs, his khaki-colored jeans reacted similarly as he moved.

"What are you doing, Martin?" she asked as she passed around the parked car and carried her notebook in her hands.

Martin shuffled his feet a little in response; "I'm trying to learn basic car repairs.To be useful in something."

"You're doing something more complex. Would you rather start by simply repairing the burned engine?"

"Good idea." he said, moving to climb again and stand on both feet.

He was a little dirty from the way he "studied" the car, but he didn't mind.

Laura was still watching him. She watched as he walked toward the front of the car, opening the bonnet, and with a silver-colored metal key used to repair the cars, he began practicing a simple repair. Behind him you could see a flowing waterfall flowing into the local small lake. They were back in the jungle.

She couldn't help but giggle a little. Martin heard the girly giggling behind him and turned on her.

"Why are you laughing?"

Laura tried to control herself, but she couldn't keep up, and the giggle turned into laughter.

"I don't know where it came from in me. When I saw you at our first meeting naked, so, so..." she burst out laughing, then tried to get back to normal speech "You are nice and I thought you had a nice body."

He smirked.

He stopped digging in the car, left the tools on the hood, and washed his hands a little so he wasn't dirty again in her presence.

He came to her and was startled as he touched her haunch with his hands. He didn't have to look at her to know she was in a flirting mood.

"What are you doing?" fell out of her when she saw him look into her face and touch her haunch.

She put the notebook down on the grass for more space to focus on him.

"It concerns our first meeting.." Martin said and he started stroking her cheek "I love you.." he murmured into her ear, and Laura froze as Martin began to kiss her neck.

"Shhh..." he reassured her with that word to let her know she wasn't to be scared of him.

Finally, when he stopped kissing her neck, they looked into each other's face. Martin looked at her with a smile and she finally had to smile too. Right now they were holding hands.

"So more than just working?" Martin asked with a smile on his face.

"More than just working." Laura replied and they both kept smiling at each other.

"I knew you attracted me from the beginning." she said before they started kissing on mouths.

"And I knew from the beginning that I love you." Martin said shortly before they started kissing on mouths.

But they both felt the love excitement, not just romantic but also sexual.

She undressed his dark blue t-shirt and he, half-naked, began to undress her slowly as he kissed her.

Amorous excitement excited with every kiss. She, too, felt the love, and she felt love for him, too.

Martin froze as he kissed, knowing that her horny behavior had returned, knowing that she was touching his crotch.

But in the end he dedicated himself to these intimate touches. He continued kissing and both of them suddenly changed their mood.

"Come to me." he said, when they both temporarily lay down on the grass and continued to overtake the love games.

Her T-shirt and bra (both white) fell to the grass while he undressed her in a passionate kissing.

She lay on him, stroking his sturdy, firm chest. Both of them suddenly felt like in a fairy tale, still hearing the singing of exotic birds.

The shoes and socks of the two young lovers fell beside their T-shirts while they were kissing and getting ready for love games.

Martin had to unfasten the jeans after all. Obviously they started to excite each other by teasing intimate parts, but he was looking forward to what would come next.

During this passionate kissing he aimed his hand under her pants and underwear to her womanhood to excite her. She "retaliated" him by trying to take his boxers off.

But the undressing of our young artist and scientist in one person did not pay attention and he didn't care if he was naked or not when he was going to make love.

Our two lovers eventually stripped naked when they were passionately kissing. It couldn't do without gentle words.

With all the joy of the love in full swing he now felt, he had to laugh as he lay on his back completely naked on the grass, and she lay beside him, clutching to his chest. They haven't gone straight to the point yet.

"You gave me an idea." he smiled as they cuddled before sex.

"Which?" Laura asked, as she looked into her lover's face and her right hand was putted on the bare chest of her lover.

"I have an idea for the next verses in my work. They would be about love. What if we put them in my diary together? What about you love?"

She kissed him on the chest. They didn't care that the grass beneath them was damp.

"I think that's a good idea." she replied.

"If we don't play music here, we'll compose the song ourselves." he said and stretched out to his pants lying on the ground not far from them to pull the diary and pen out of his pocket.

He lay his back on the grass again, carrying notes in one hand and a pen in the other.

She clung to him again, resting her head on his right shoulder, watching him open a diary with a poem written down while still holding a pen in his right hand.

In addition to the written verses, she also noted the illustrations he drew with his hand.

"I decided to write it when I learned that I was going to Africa." he added and he was getting ready to write new verses.

She kissed him on the cheek, creating more verses, this time about love found in the midst of a bloody bath.

_I was alone,_

_but now the loneliness is gone._

_I survived the war here,_

_and I guess it is going to be more._

_I'm not alone,_

_I have a love._

_She gave me back smile_

_and we are together going through next mile._

They read it and they both smiled at each other.

"I love you too." she said and she kissed him on his chest.

Martin put the dotted diary and pen on his clothes, including the underwear of both of them now rolling on the ground.

He began to touch one of her breasts while she kissed him.

"Do we start here on the grass, or do you want to come with me to make love to the waterfall? It's almost like in the shower." he asked as he watched the waterfall flowing into the small lake behind them in the jungle shortly before the start of any kind of sex.

"I would start here, but I wouldn't mind." she said, but it was Martin so horny and excited that he had to get to her womanhood with his manhood and thus have "almost all" sexual intercourse.

"Let me at least lick you before we go there." he demanded.

He stroked her, and since she, like him, enjoyed the making love, he used it to start licking her womanhood.

After this, he had to pick her up and have sex together while she clung to the tree bark and stroked his body, mainly his back.

They both forgot that they were without a condom, but in this case it didn't matter. Neither she nor him expected to have sex here in Africa.

"I love you Martin.." she moaned as he kissed her neck again. And not only that. In addition to kissing her mouth, he also kissed her breasts.

"What if we went to the waterfall now?" she asked him as he continued to kiss her in that position during intercourse.

"I agree." he said.

They temporarily stopped making love, and before they recovered, they bathed together in the lake, while the waterfall, at its calm pace, poured into the lake behind them.

She sat on his lap, but he didn't mind; They were both under water for half their bodies.

Both lovers began to kiss each other's mouth as they stroked each other's back and heard both the sounds of birds, monkeys, and the sound of a flowing waterfall. They felt warm.

They enjoyed it and also that both of them enjoyed each other's pleasure.

They swam a bit in the water, but our young romantic made sure they could get to the waterfall after all.

They stood up. They were still kissing and stroking the body as they were washed by clear transparent water, having sex, making love.

He couldn't help it: He clung to her back as they were washed by the running water of the waterfall. He began to touch her side and prepared to continue with her. He began to kiss her neck and shoulder and broke into her again during sexual intercourse. She started holding his right hand during that and made it hard.

They had been together like this for a while, and then they could look into each other's face again, followed by a passionate kiss of the two young lovers.

Martin was dressing now. 3 hours full of love and passion are over. Laura was also wearing it. She planned to pack up her belongings and continue her journey with her new boyfriend and lover.

Martin whistled to himself calmly, dressing up his pants.

"Did you like it?" he asked as he put on his jeans.

"Why do you ask me these questions when you know I liked it like you?" she smiled as she dressed.

"I love you too.." he murmured to himself, buttoning his jeans, but at that moment he heard a sound that sounded like a click of weapons.

He looked in front of him and swallowed when he saw a group of armed men, blacks, pointing at him and Laura with assault rifles.

"Toa au nitakuumiza kichwa chako." said one of the men aiming at them in Swahili.

Then their boss appeared on the scene and he spoke in English.

"You two will go with us.." he said.

Martin and Laura, who dressed before a while looked at each other and swallowed. They knew they were screwed.


	9. Chapter 9

He sighed and grabbed her hand. The floor beneath them was shaking. They were in a truck. It was dark and she curled up to him. He stroked her back.

She pulled his sleeve, when the truck seemed to stop.

"Martin, run." she said when she was looking into his eyes.

He looked at the locker doors that were in the back. They opened.

"You bleeds will come with us." said the poacher commander.

Both, Martin and Laura froze when they heard shots from the guns outside.

"Run.." she murmured.

"But Laura.." Martin sighed "And what with you?"

"I owe you, run."

Gunmen escorted them out of the car. They were in an area where the savannah jungle intersected and it was clear that there was a fight. It was sunset. The commander did not forgive to tease Martin. Yes, they did not have their hands tied, but poachers took great care for them.

The commander pulled out his poetry diary from his pocket. Martin watched it, and seemed to drop in stress when he saw the poacher manipulate with his hard work.

The commander read it in silence for a moment, then pulled out the lighter and lit his work before his eyes.

Sweat ran down Martin's forehead. He was nervous and now he felt angry.

Then he walked, and the deliberately burning diary he throwed to the savannah. By then, Martin felt his heart sooner or later jump out of his chest.

He looked angry, but Laura poked him in the shoulder again with the look she told him to run.

The poachers were calm at the moment trying to figure out what they would do to the hostages.

Martin felt completely empty for a while, but then there was an unexpected attack from one side of the local civil war that was there.

"Run." she told him again when they both found themselves in a gunfight between poachers and soldiers, but he didn't let go of her hand.

"Run." she said for the second time but by that time bullet almost hit Martin's head.

"Run." she said for the third time so Martin had to let go of her hand with a sad look.

He was completely defenseless, had nothing with him and bullets were flying around him and he didn't want to leave his love.

In shock, he decided to flee to the jungle, but he had already seen poachers in the distance killing soldiers who attacked them. They started shooting at him again.

He ran again in the jungle. He heard gunfire behind him, and now he was totally defenseless and without a map set to the wilderness.

It was a few hours since his run.

It was night, but the sounds of the weapons still waned. He was lying against a tree in the darkness, his hands resting on his face. He was sad, but at the same time he was scared.

But his depression ended when Martin heard a growl behind him.

He stood up and turned when he saw two yellow glowing eyes in the darkness. He swallowed.

In the glow of the moon the beast walked more toward him. It was a leopard, and it looked like it was looking for him as it's prey.

The animal jumped on him and pulled him to the ground. Martin felt his hands start bleeding. The beast's claws had dug into his hand, and now he was lying on the ground, completely paralyzed while the beast was about to strangle him.

He froze as he looked into the beast's eyes and knew it was only a matter of time before the leopard will kill him.

He turned his head a little and noticed a stone near his right hand to stun the animal.

He shifted a little with his right hand, but he suffered as the claw was digging deeper into his flesh. Blood flowed more.

He managed to get his hand away from the claw, and before the leopard realized what was happening, Martin hit him with a stone, stunning the animal.

Now, literally in the dark, lost in the jungle, he ran and didn't know what to do next.

He ran like this for 10 minutes when he noticed a camp in the middle of the jungle.

He came there and began to examine it. Apparently it belonged to a native.

At the primitive campfire fish was roasted here, so the owner had to be nearby.

Martin noticed an indigenous tribal mask that was laid inside a primitive shelter. He noticed a stone knife and other tools that may be used to hunt.

He walked in and started digging there. He was looking for something to stop the bleeding after the leopard attacked him.

He heard the growl behind him again. He was nervous and sweat ran down his forehead.

He turned a little and it was the leopard who attacked him a few minutes ago trying to catch him.

The animal began to approach, and Martin had to turn and look back at the animal.

He thought about grabbing the stone knife, but then he realized that a leopard could jump on it immediately and strangle him in place. He moved a little out of the primitive shelter and began to retreat.

"Nice cat, nice cat.." he muttered as he slowly retreated into the back as the wild beast approached him.

He stumbled and fell to the ground. The animal was about to jump at him and definitely strangle him.

The animal almost succeeded, but at that moment the spear fell on the hunt.

At that moment, Martin was as confused as the leopard. Still sitting on the ground, he began to look around when he heard an indigenous roar that was, in a way, war music.

The creature saw a flying net in the darkness, attached to one stone at each end. Leopard did not wait for anything and ran.

The net fell to the ground while the leopard had already disappeared. Martin stood up and knelt as he began to look curiously at the throwing net and the indigenous spear, which in this darkness could be seen as a black image while the campfire still burned behind the spear.

He was startled to notice that someone was standing in front of him. He got to his feet immediately.

Through the glowing fire at the back, he could tell that a black, somewhat older, indigenous man was standing in front of him.

His manhood was covered by a piece of processed hunted animal skin attached to a primitive belt, whether or not of leather. His face was painted with white powder, and it was supposed to look like a warrior paint. His hair was gray, and this native's face was already wrinkled.

Martin swallowed to see him and didn't know how to answer. After all, this man was likely to speak only the language of his tribe.

The man spoke to him in an unknown language, and Martin couldn't understand a word. He had not attacked him yet, and although Martin was nervous, he tried to explain what had happened to him with his hand gestures.

He added a few English words, and he didn't know how the native would react. The native started mimicking the facial expression too, and that was a good sign for Martin.

The native spoke the unknown language again, and Martin couldn't understand a word again.

The native turned and decided to return to his primitive shelter. Martin followed him.

The native sat in front of the fire and began to paint something with his hand in the dirt. He needed to make sure the white man understood him.

He drew a picture of an exotic bird and needed to see if the stranger knew the same thing.

He decided to wait until the stranger answered. Martin decided to imitate the bird with his hands.

The native nodded his head as a sign that the man knew it.

Martin also looked at the native's shelter from the inside. In addition to the mask he noticed various herbs and insects. The native was a shaman.

Then he stood up for a moment and began to do something in the hut of herbs, insects and who knows what else.

He walked over to him and handed him a clay bowl of dark brown liquid and nodded to tell him to drink it.

"Should I drink it?" Martin asked as he held a clay bowl with African tribal scenes.

The shaman shook his head again and Martin started to drink it. It tasted awful. It was like drinking crushed insects and bilberries in water.

His gaze began to dim, and he realized he was sick of a drop. Now he stood completely disoriented, feeling like he was going to vomit, and the shaman took his clay bowl back.

He began to sway, whereupon he heard the shaman put on the tribal mask, and blurryly saw the shaman begin to dance around him and make sounds simulating combat singing and the roar of the beasts.

He fainted and in the middle of singing the shaman closed his eyes as he fell to the ground in wet dirt.

He opened his eyes again. It was as if he suddenly found himself in a completely different world.

He heard the singing of exotic birds and shortly thereafter a lion roar. Suddenly, the sounds of firing guns added to this, and he saw from a bird's eye view the part of the savannah where the open battle of the civil war was taking place.

He saw the leader of the poachers who attacked them.

He had black colour of skin and seemed to be about forty. He saw him in the dark room, but he couldn't see his face. He saw him holding one hand of a white-skinned man forcibly. He could see a sign carving a knife into his hand. The wound bleed heavily and the white man was crying.

Then the scene changed and Martin realized that the white man was the kidnapped cameraman, Laura's colleague.

He saw poachers getting ready to sell the hostage on the black market in the context of trafficking.

He saw hell instead of the savannah. The whole savannah was burning, and the fighting people and animals that ran from here were burning alive.

It wasn't over because he suddenly a vivid scene of one year of life in Africa ran before him.

He saw the rainy season, saw the rain fall on the ground, and the dry soil suddenly turned wet. Accordingly, he knew he was in a state in Sub-Saharan Africa. This could be Sierra Leone, Côte d'Ivoire, Nigeria, Cameroon, Congo, which was located above the Democratic Republic of Congo or Sudan.

Then he saw a dry season: empty and dry soil, where there were good lizards and scorpions, while the other animals were thirsty except for cloven-toed ungulates like zebras, who had no difficulty digging up the water.

Then he was back in the Congolese jungle.

Again he heard the shaman's native singing and felt as if the local culture was pouring into him.

He woke up again in the real world, realizing that he was lying on the damp ground all the time.

He looked around, and suddenly found that the hand-cut scene was happening to him.

He saw a shaman holding a bloody dagger from a lion's fang at his right hand. His dominant right hand was bleeding, had a cut on it, and the shaman didn't even try to cure the wound, but he tried to "stop" the bleeding.

Martin was shaking. Again he felt his own warm blood flowing to his hand, and he saw drops of his blood dripping to the ground, and the soil soaked them like water.

The native's right hand was a little white from the white natural coloring powder as he tried to stop the stranger's bleeding.

He mumbled something in a language that Martin didn't understand a word and stopped holding the wound.

Martin saw the bleeding wound again and noticed that it was one of Africa's indigenous characters.

Martin saw the blow again and noticed that it was one of Africa's indigenous characters.

When the shaman noticed that he had calmed down a little, he gave him a clay bowl of water to look at himself in reflection.

He was startled to see that he was painted like an African native warrior in a reflection of drinking water.

The paint could be washed away, but Martin began to look at himself.

He had painted white and orange lines on his face by shaman's finger.

The shaman looked at him and nodded.

Martin stood up to leave, but the shaman noticed. He stopped it and handed him one of the daggers from the lion's fang.

He felt some hope in him. He managed to catch the dagger, but the shaman stopped him again. He put his left hand on his right shoulder and showed him the way.

"Where is it going?" he asked the native, seeing that he was pointing south.

The shaman began drawing silently in the air, and he realized that this was the way to the savannah.

"You read my thoughts." he said and set off on foot, armed only with a primitive dagger.

He could just see the way as he scrambled through the jungle. He didn't feel tired, though he should. He knew it was the same direction he had fled into this jungle today.

In half an hour of walking, he noticed the path where the assault had taken place today.

He swore slightly to himself when he saw that there were no weapons at the place of the assault. Only the corpses of the invaders were scattered around, and all the weapons that were rolling were gone.

He wasn't surprised to hear the sounds of firing guns. He continued his walk on the savanna.

A twig snapped there, but he used the darkness that was now.

There was a fight here somewhere in the distance, but it was stolen from Martin now.

Then he noticed one of the poachers in the distance who was behind the kidnapping of his love. The commander left one unit here to take care of the shops here, and by then Martin had noticed the building he had seen when he was drugged.

He crouched and noticed a patrolling poacher. The armed man stopped and leaned against the wall in a boring shift and lit a cigarette. This time he was white.

Martin began to creep quietly.

The man began to whistle and began to march as he was attacked from behind. He tried to knock down the attacker, but although the attacker was smaller than him, he held him like a tick.

There was a danger that the gunman would fire around, but that would only attract the other men patrolling here.

So the moment he jumped on him, he stabbed a dagger from the lion's fang into his throat from the right side.

The man roared in pain and Martin felt hot blood flowing to his right hand.

He pushed the dagger and blood flowed even more, this time the man was running down his clothes and dripping to the ground. In an attempt to kill him, Martin finally cut his throat.

The bloody corpse fell to the ground. Martin put the bloody dagger in his jeans pocket and grabbed the assault rifle that lay on the ground next to the poacher's corpse lying in a bloody bath.

He noticed the window that was there. He smashed it with the gun-stock of his weapon and crawled inside.

The room was a kitchen. The room didn't look like someone was using it very much.

This time he did not creep, but normally went quietly for it.

There was a suspicious silence, and there was no point in letting them watch it from the inside.

He marched on, but after about three meters of walking he noticed the stairs leading to the cellar.

He went down carefully. He saw a metal door. He threw them.

It was a dark room that looked more like a torture chamber.

There was blood on the floor, and there was a monitor that was still playing the same disturbing record into the wheel.

Martin noticed a bloody wooden chair attached to the somewhat damp and cold floor. He swallowed for the first time when he saw a man sitting there, a mutilated corpse, about his age, also a white man. He swallowed again when he turned to see a bloody steel table that was commonly used in a hospital to do X-rays.

He turned his gaze at the recording the monitor was playing. Monitor played the video on a dark wall instead of whiteboard or blackboard.

Martin turned to see the record. He heard the audio.

He watched the trapped man on the record. One of the poachers took up the camera's footage and Martin's jaw dropped when he saw Laura. This man was her colleague she talked about.

The camera was then broken, and when Martin looked down, he noticed the remains of a destroyed camera.

There was a scene where the young cameraman was tortured.

They beat him, kicked him, tried all sorts of torture instruments on him. Yes, it made him feel emotional and suddenly felt terrible.

At the end the trapped cameraman was bloody and sweating.

_"You bastards.."_ the cameraman murmured before another cruel torture followed.

Martin couldn't cope mentally anymore and had to get out of here.

Still shocked, he began to examine the remaining rooms of the house. But he stopped when he noticed that one room was an armory.

"I have an idea.." he murmured for himself.

Secondly, he changed clothes to change his outfit. This time the previous outfit was replaced by similar military outfits, but black... maybe more police.

He was dressed like a member of the SWAT intervention unit. He took the dagger with him, of course.

He grabbed the assault rifle and, in a somewhat fierce mood, said to himself aloud; "Don't worry, Laura, I will free you from those bastards."


	10. Chapter 10

**Music:** **Barra Barra by Rachid Taha**

**When I started writing this fic, I found the movie Black Hawk Down and this song. I recommend to listen to it, while reading this chapter****.**

* * *

The dawn began with a typical to blood-colored African dawn.

_Barra barra, hozd wel boghd ou zawara_

On each side of the savannah were oldiers. This time it was not about those from the local civil war, but about soldiers from neighboring states who were preparing for the battle that was to begin here.

_Barra barra, fezd wel l'hozd ma b'qa amane_

The bloody battle was about to begin, but Martin had no intention of participating in a foreign war.

_Barra barra, l'alach we ness menhoussine_

Our young zoologist was now looking for poachers who were still holding the young woman he loved captive. He hoped they would still be in this area.

_Barra barra, la horma dolm wet ouboudia_

He got a clue from the poachers who guarded the house he broke into yesterday: Although this area was to become a hotbed of fighting, for the poachers who operated here it was a perfect place for human trafficking. With people who got in their way.

_Barra barra, nechfou l'widane helkou b'houratte_

He began to chase the poachers on foot as the roar of men and the sounds of gunfire echoed through the savannah. The animals in the area immediately fled.

_Barra barra, noujoum t'fate derguete chems_

The poachers he pursued did not stop, but he noticed that there was another faction of poachers in the area. There was a bloody fight between the poachers and our young zoologist found himself confused in the middle of the war, where he was attacked from all sides.

_Barra barra, ma b'qa kheir la saada wala z'har_

It was just sunrise and they were already fighting. Martin now lost hope that he would find and save his love at all, when a bullet flew next to his head. He tried to escape this time when he heard the sound of a shattering bottle. Somebody threw a molotov and fire spread across the savannah.

_Barra barra, ma b'kate sadjra sektou la t'iour_

He tried to avoid the bullets when he saw the leader, the group of poachers, watching him in the distance, watching him and laughing. He looked at him like a figurine. Apparently he longed to see his enemy cope in the middle of the battle. After all, he had a gun.

_Barra barra, ma bka lil la n'har ghir dalma_

He had to start firing, whether he liked it or not. But because of the spread of fire, he suddenly found himself in hell. Not only was there dark smoke, but because of the fire that spread through the savannah, it was even hotter and even less safe.

_Barra barra, jahanama ma b'ka zine_

Martin started to run in this risky situation because he wanted to catch up. He heard a big explosion behind him: Somebody fired from a bazooka.

_Barra barra, k'tar z'mane ma b'kate horma_

He had to start firing to save himself at all. He crouched against a parked car here so he wouldn't be shot immediately. He heard bullets bouncing off the car. Sweat ran down his brow and he felt his heart beat quickly.

_Barra barra, fozd l'harb we dem isil_

One of the men in the battle decided to attack him. Martin had to shoot him whether he wanted to or not. He grabbed the weapon the attacker was carrying. It was a hand-gun and he shoved it into his pocket. He shifted a little more to the poacher leader.

_Barra barra, ghir l'hitane l'hitane waqfine_

But the poacher's smile didn't last long either. Just as he intended to blackmail his enemy by killing his beloved journalist, poachers were attacked by another faction of poachers in the area.

_Barra barra, l'khaouf ness saktine_

The leader of the poachers heard the roar of war, and before Martin recovered, it was soon a fight against everyone. He used the confusion to run to the poachers. He saw her.

_Barra barra, l'hozd fezd ou zawara_

"Laura.." he murmured and he ignored the fact that he still hadn't washed the indigenous war color he still had on his face.

_Barra barra, wel hozd ma b'qa amane_

She saw him. It was a very unusual moment for both young lovers, especially when she was about to end up in a human trafficking, but instead they wanted to blackmail the fugitive Martin by killing her. Her mouth dropped when she saw him dressed in black with an assault rifle in his hand and his face painted.

_Barra barra, nechfou l'widane helkou l'bhourane_

Martin was startled at that moment as the bloodied corpse of one of the local African soldiers fell in front of him. The earth had already begun to soak up the blood of the fallen as the color of the sunrise turned red to blood red.

_Barra barra, noujoum t'fate derguette chems_

Despite the confusion, the leader of the poachers decided to challenge his opponent to a fight. He called to him in English that if he didn't want her dead or to end up in human trafficking, he should come and free her.

_Barra barra, ma b'qa kheir la saada wata z'har_

The leader of the poachers knew very well that the imprisoned journalist was not tied up, so that he would not run away, he put the barrel of his hand-gun to her head, while his men were killing other enemy poachers and soldiers from both warring parties.

_Barra barra, ma b'qa z'djour saktou la tiour_

Martin was running now, though he was almost shot at any moment. But he stopped because he almost stepped on the fire with his left foot, and in that black suit, he was getting hot and thirsty.

_Barra barra, ma b'qa lil la n'har ghir dalma_

He decided to skip the fire, but when he was with her, he received a strong punch from one of his men. Martin now lay partially stunned on the ground and saw blood flowing down the yoke of his right hand. He had a broken nose and was bleeding. At the same time, he felt the taste of his own blood in his mouth.

_Barra barra, gh'bina jahanama ma b'ka zine_

He stood up and ignored the fact that his nose was bleeding. To the surprise of the poachers, he dropped his assault rifle on the ground, even though rifle shots, screams and explosions could be heard behind him.

"If you want to fight me, let her go. I'll deal it with you as man against man." he murmured.

_Barra barra, k'tar z'méme ma b'qate horma_

To his surprise, the leader of the poachers released her, dropped his pistol on the ground, and told his men in Swahili not to do anything with the woman and not to shoot at him and his opponent.

_Barra barra, l'fezed wel harb wa dem isil_

Martin began making gestures as if he were boxing with him. He swallowed when he saw that the leader of the poachers was much stronger than he. At that moment, he realized that he had probably made a mistake, but poor Martin had already been hit in the crotch, and now he was writhing in pain on the ground with his hands on his crotch.

_Barra barra, ghir l'hitane hitane waqfine_

Laura noticed that it was not fair, so she threw a stone at the leader of the poachers, which she found on the ground. Martin had already recovered from the blow in his manhood, so before the poacher leader could recover, they were beating each other on the battlefield in the middle of the savannah.

_Barra barra, l'khaouf ness saktine_

Martin punched him in the eye, but the leader of the poachers was already banging his head on a Jeep with a machine gun parked here in the middle of the battlefield.

_Barra barra, l'hozd fezd ou zawara_

Now they fought each other like animals. Martin was already scratching his self-defense, while the bloody battle was still in full swing.

_Barra barra, fezd wel hozd ma b'qa amane_

Savannah now resembled hell. Not only was there a fire and the men were still fighting here, but there were already a lot of corpses and with them a lot of blood that was now flowing on the ground. Sunrise was already shining red as Martin prepared to kill his enemy in an every moment.

_Barra barra, noujoum t'fate derquéte chéms_

He pulled a lion-dagger dagger from his native yesterday from his pocket in the middle of a fight on the ground. He was hit in the hand and the dagger fell to the ground. The poacher noticed, and now he was about to kill him on the spot.

_Barra barra, ma b'qa kheir la saada la z'har_

He began to strangle him, and Martin desperately tried to reach for the dagger as he writhed like a dying dog as he coughed as a result of suffocation.

_Barra barra, ma b'qa z'djour sektou lé tiour_

Eventually he managed to reach for the dagger, and at that moment he stabbed it in the poacher's neck. Blood began to flow again, and this time the black leader of the poachers began to suffocate. He immediately pierced the neck with a dagger, dropped the corpse, and stood up with his bloodied hands. Now it was time to save Laura as the battle approached its end.

_Barra barra, ma b'qa lil la n'har ghir dalma_

He hid the bloodied dagger in his pocket again and grabbed one of the rifles that rolled on the ground and ran after it as the bloody sunrise ended.

_Barra barra, djahanama ma b'qa zine_

"Laura!" he screamed as he approached her, but it had already struck the first gun-stock poacher, so that the poacher fell stunned to the ground. Laura also joined in, and another poacher received a blow to his crotch, and Martin stunned him.

_Barra barra, k'tar z'méne ma b'qate horma_

The young couple in love now stood in front of the poachers' car, watching together the end of the bloody sunrise as they saw the fire stop spreading and lots of corpses and blood on the savannah.


	11. Chapter 11

He took her hand. She looked at him and smiled. The bloody sunrise was over, and they both were glad they had hell behind them.

"Don't you want to wipe the paint?" she asked him as she began to hand him a damp handkerchief.

"Oh, actually, I forgot." Martin replied, taking a damp handkerchief from her and wiping the war native paint from his face. "Where did you get that handkerchief?" he asked then.

"They have our stuff in that vehicle. Plus, when it's over-"

"We can finally get out of here."

Martin hurried to the vehicle and began searching him. He was glad to find his backpack. He grabbed his bottle of drinking water and drank immediately, because then he was very thirsty to fight in a hot environment.

He was almost done drinking when he heard the sound of the camera clicking behind him. Frightened, he stopped drinking, turned, and looked at her.

Laura was standing in front of him again with her camera in her hands, and it looked like she had just taken a picture of him.

"Photo to our interview." she added and he had to smile.

"Where are we going now?" then he asked as he looked at her.

"I'd see it somewhere, where the airport is."

He placed the unfinished bottle next to his backpack, came to her, and began kissing her again with such an intimate touch. The two lovers held hands and swayed together while standing.

He kissed her on the cheek and added; "Let's go."

She turned to look him in the face. He smiled and she stroked his cheek.

They stopped hugging, took their belongings and got into an empty van, which they took over from the poachers and set off.

Martin sat on the left side of the steering wheel. As soon as he put his hands on the steering wheel, he sighed as he was still recovering from the pain in manhood after the leader of a group of poachers kicked him in the crotch during the fight.

Laura, sitting next to him, pulled out a map the poachers had and began to find out where she was with Martin.

"Looks like we're in the north of Congo."

"Near what?"

"Between cities Bunia and Beni."

"So we are still in the middle of the conflict.." Martin didn't hold back and swore, while hit with his right hand to the dashboard, "Shit!"

Laura immediately began to hold his right hand, saying, "Calm down, we'll get out of here."

"I just .. after everything .." he didn't finish and sighed again in the middle of the sentence.

Martin, but soon after, frowned when he realized that she had stopped holding his hand and was now stroking his crotch..

He looked at her and she pressed the index finger of her left hand to his lips. He was nervous when she unbuttoned his pants, even though they had already made love to each other during this adventure.

At the same time, he felt a kind of relief ... they already have the main thing behind them, so they can give space to passion and love again? Or not?

He was beginning to feel calm and at the same time relieved. The nervousness subsided because he did not expect his beloved Laura to do such a thing.

He didn't expect anything sexual again after the fight, but in the end he gave it up.

He put his hands behind his head and closed his eyes. He began to rest when he felt the touch of her hands on his manhood.

He rested during a kiss, a lick, and subsequent oral sex. He felt exhausted after the fight.

* * *

One of the following stops on the way to the nearest airport, a young couple stopped by the river.

Martin used it to call Kurt. He walked to the river, pulled the phone he had received from him out of his pocket, and began calling.

Fortunately, Kurt picked it up, so the conversation began as Martin watched the jungle illuminate the sun.

_"Is this you Martin? I have not see you for a long time."_

"Yeah, it is me. I want help."

_"Why?"_

"I think my adventure here in Democratic Repulic of the Congo has ended. A few days ago I was literally in the middle of the battlefield, I killed leader of the poachers, who were doing illegal activity here and I feel as if I was in WWII."

_"Calm down, calm down. It's understandable if you are traumatized from all this, but this is a a part of our job. In the future, you will surely tell your children how you fought with poachers in the middle of the war in Africa."_

"You are right. I want to return back to the US wih my girlfriend I met here and I want to know where is the closest airport." Martin said, while talking to the phone and he put his left hand on his forehead.

_"In do not know where you are, but I know a location where is a small airport."_

Martin felt happier right now. Just find the airport and return back to the Falcon City.

"Where?" he asked Kurt, while call.

Laura looked at him, while he called him. She was continuing working on her article.

_"So tell me, where you are and I try to find the closest plane for you two."_

Martin gave her a look back and she gave him a kiss back.

"Me and Laura are trying to return back to the territory under Kabila's administration. I was there with my group before the attack came and we arrived in the airport in the Mbuji-Maji."

_"I think that will be hard when you as the only one survived the attack as you told me."_

"Why?"

_"I am afraid you don't have said documents."_

Martin swallowed.

"Could be possible an ask fro the diplomatic help from your country?"

_"I could try, but I think my colleagues from the University of Stuttgart wouldn't be happy from that I want to help some American and all the drama during solving it with the embassy itself."_

Martin swallowed again.

_"Or... I can sent to you one of my colleagues from the University. He was in the US as well and he is a qualified pilot."_

"How long it will takes before he gets here?"

_"2, 3 days. It depends on the length of officing."_

"So.."

_"If you are both okay, so cough up on the war and try to enjoy your 'vacation' in Africa before you both return home."_

"I will sent you coordinates, where the pilot will must wait for me and Laura."

_"Okay. I am going to solve it with my group right now. My group is under protection of Heer, 2 ground units of Bundeswehr, because the expedition was financed by government."_

Martin putted the cellphone back to his pocket after he sent the coordinates and Laura this time decided to ask him.

"How it looks like?"

He came to her, he kissed her cheek and said: "It looks like we will be here for a few days before help from the Europe wil arrives."

"I have an idea.." Laura said as he came to the river "What if we used this situation and did the interview here?"

Martin smiled.

* * *

Kurt smiled as he in the jungle with his partner Jacqueline finally met Martin after a long time, this time with a young woman, who helped hem in fighting poachers as well. It was about 11 AM in the morning and the group stood on the dusty road. This time only animals like chimpanzee were heard.

"So, you are here!" Kurt said as he hugged Martin and he looked at the Laura, who was stooding nearby her boyfriend "For you two is finally time to get out of here!" he added as he patted Martin's shoulder.

Martin on the other side noticed an one unit of German soldiers, which were patrolling and guarded environs.

"When I met, you don't told me that your expedition has soldiers." Martin said to Kurt as he watched them.

"You were already shocked, when I told you the harsh reality of your and mine job, and I thought it would be for you too much if you knew that 2 platoons, every counting 5 armed men are here will be too much for you to know."

"So, when we will ride to the airport? It is time to show the article to the editor." Laura joined the discussion.

"Wait a minute..." Kurt said as he turned and went out "Follow me. There is a nearby a small dusty runway and I think it will be enough, because you both will fly in a civilian airplane."

Martin and Laura were both had their stuff with them and they both followed Kurt to the small airplane, which matched to the medium civilian aircraft from the Communist side of Europe during the Cold War.

"I know that a small airplane from the time of the GDR is not so much luxury for you 2, but for return to the your city it will be enough." Kurt said as he showed them medium civilian aircraft, which looked like it is 13 years old.

Martin did not cared. He was happy from that he is going to return back to home. While Kurt was talking to soldiers about transport, Laura kissed him. After this kiss on the mouth he turned as the Kurt went to them back.

"So it looks like as an end of our meeting Martin." Kurt said and he looked at Martin.

"I do not know if I ever meet nature protectors with an elan like yours again." Martin said and then he came to Laura with words: "Give me please your backpack Laura. I must put our things to the airplane."

He breathed as he with help of one German soldier he worked on loading his and her belongings into the storage space of the plane. Laura watched her dear witha smile. He then ran to her and said: "The cargo is loaded. We can get on a plane and finally fly."

Kurt watched the young couple as Martin helped Laura to get inside. Martin sat nearby Laura and they both began to cuddle once they buckled in.

After a while, the plane door closed and, since the pilot had been waiting there so long after that, the plane took flied up. The interior of the plane was similar to the one he encountered on the plane he and his group flew to Africa.

"So, where you 2 want to go?"

"I would ask to the Airport of the Falcon City please." Martin said and he looked at his girlfriend. She was holding his right hand and he felt happy.

"You haven't told me what city you live in yet." He said and he looked at her.

"Falcon City." she said and Martin looked surprised.

"Falcon City?" he repeated.

"Yeah, Falcon City."

"I am from here!" He said happily and young couple began to kiss and in passion stroking each other. Pilot tried to ignore possible making love of young couple, while Kurt said to himself in German as he watched airplane dissapearing in the clouds.

"Kümmert euch um deinen Freund."


	12. Chapter 12

Teenage Chris was walking around the kitchen in the house where he grew up and where his mother still lived. It was about 12 AM and outside it looked nice. He held and drank a glass of milk in his hand, but then he saw a magazine on the table for which he had spewed milk.

The cover of "Falcon Topic" magazine featured a picture of his older brother Martin dressed as if he were fighting in Africa with a rifle on the back of a stroking zebra. The cover had the title "Zoologist's First Expedition." His own line was quoted on the cover: "I went to protect endangered animals because of my childhood love of nature."

"You've got to be kidding me.." Chris murmured for himself as he was looking at the cover of the magazine, which his mother had prepaid for a year.

He turned when he heard the door open and shortly afterwards heard the voice of his older brother, who saw him as the first "I'm home! How did you have it while I was in Africa beating the ass of poachers?"

Chris turned. Martin's clothing which he weared right now said he had been to Africa and not only had he not come here.

"Please don't brag Martin. I just saw you in the magazine." Chris said, while he watched his older brother as he put his backpack on the chair at the dining table and looked more happy at home than ever before.

He started unpacking his things and putting them on the dining table. Chris paid attention to his older brother before hearing the footsteps of an unknown person behind him. He turned and then saw a young blonde 'woman kissing his older brother on the cheek.

"Bro, who is this woman?" Chris asked and he pointed his finger at the Laura.

"Chris, let me introduce Laura to you." Martin said as he put his right hand on the right shoulder of his younger brother "Chris, this is Laura Wilkinson. My girlfriend and the author of the article you saw today. I met her in Africa."

Chris shook hands with her.

"Martin, you don't tell me that you have a brother." she said after shooking hands with Chris as she was looking again at Martin.

"There was no time to tell you all." Martin said and Chris watched him as he while talking with his hands he made gestures mimicking the beasts "That is, when they shot at us two."

Chris, who had just finished drinking his glass of milk had had enough of their love-chatter.

"I don't want to know what you intend to do here while Mom is with the kids she teaches on a school trip, but I better leave."

Martin and Laura at that moment stopped with their excited flirting and they both watched Chris as he was leaving home. Martin heard him murmuring "I will go to Aviva."

Chris slammed the door from the front of the house behind him, and Martin was a little out of it. It's as if their moods around Africa have either changed or Chris has been more aggressive around his relatives than before.

"I want to make you a romantic day today." and he started acting in the front of as if he were in a theatre "And because my poetry was destroyed by the poachers, so please let me recite Francesco Petrarca and one of his works."

Martin kneeled in the front of her and he began to quote love sonnets by the Italian writer Francesco Petrarch, Laura and Poetry.

_It was the day the sun's ray had_

_Turned pale_

_With pity for the suffering of his Maker._

_When I was caught, and I put up no_

_Fight,_

_My lady, for your lovely eyes had_

_Bound me._

_It seemed no time to be on guard_

_Against_

_Love's blows; therefore, I went my way_

_Secure and fearless - so, all my_

_Misfortunes_

_Began in midst of universal woe._

_Love found me all disarmed and found_

_The way_

_Was clear to reach my heart down_

_Through the eyes_

_Which have become the halls and_

_Doors of tears_

_It seems to me it did him little honour_

_To wound me with his arrow in my state_

_and to you, armed, not show his bow_

_At all._

She after it hugged her lover and he passionately kissed here as they were both alone here.

"Wait a while for me. I must do something with my things before we go together to the cinema." Martin said to her as he took his backpack and flew to his room.

He immediately threw the backpack onto his bed, but only pulled one thing out of it. And that dagger from the lion's fang he got from the shaman. He displayed the dagger on a drawer beneath his exhibited bachelor's degree and looked confidently at the dagger.

He felt like a warrior, he felt that he in the war in Africa showed the warrior hidden in him. While looking at the dagger he felt as if he was in Africa again. He felt that he is listening to local tradional music and singing here. He hoped to return to Africa ever again. The fighting here has hardened him.

Out of fantasy, however, he was sucked back into reality by his girlfriend's voice: "Martin, are you ready?"

"Yes, I am!" he called as his reply back and then he flew to his love.

The dagger was illuminated by the Sun, which shone into the room through a closed window and although the owner was currently away, it was obvious that the fang belonged to a strong male lion who had experienced a lot.

* * *

**Poetry used in this chapter: Laura and Poetry by Francesco Petrarca (anglicized as Petrarch)**

**Source: **** site/eaglepoetry/francesco-petrarch/part-1-love-sonnets-to-laura**

**About writer: wiki/Petrarch**


End file.
